Whispers of the Breeze
by The Quell
Summary: During the First Age of Middle Earth, the dark Sorcerer Morlach, an exile of Doriath, sets an eternal curse upon his enemy, Carnil, which proves to sway the fates of many. A tale of vengeance, destiny, conflict, and love. Please R
1. Prologue

Whispers of the Breeze 

Prologue

It was night. The last remains of daylight had dissolved into the darkness, and the towering heavens were aflame with a glittering frost of stars. Moonlight fell to earth in fragile webs, icing the smoke-grey infinity of trees with the softest traces of silver. The night formed a shadowy frame about the figure of a young maiden, standing silent as death amid the deepening gloom. Unearthly she looked, her pale hair drifting as a spectral mist about her shoulders. The glow of distant stars clouded her ashen features, glinting ethereal and pure as the sacred lights that had once torn the darkness of Middle-Earth asunder, ere the rising of Laurelin's final bloom. The girl smiled into the calm night, her dark eyes echoing the shadows of twilight that reared up on either side. Tinuial the Elves named her, for her true name was a secret known to none. As a child she had been found wandering the twilit forests by hunters of Nargothrond. Whence she came none could tell, though all who had looked upon her perceived that she fled from some deadly peril - a half-forgotten darkness that lingered like an unspoken prophecy behind her. She had been brought before King Orodreth, and taking pity on the child, he saw that she was fostered within his great realm. And so she was taken under the care of one Durthol, the very hunter who had first discovered Tinuial and named her. He took the place of her father and came to love her as a daughter of his own. As the years passed, Tinuial became fair, even, to some degree, by the measure of the Elves. Yet the everlasting youth of the Eldar was not hers, for she was mortal.

She stood now in the secluded woodland region half a league distant of her home, gazing into the shivering firmament past the slender branches of the trees. Suddenly, Tinuial was disturbed by a sharp cry near at hand, and she started violently as her thoughts plummeted back to the hard earth on which she stood.

'Tinuial!'

She turned, and beheld (with a vague bemusement crossing her pale features) the unnecessarily noisy approach of an Elven-youth bearing a lantern. The piercing radiance stung her eyes, and she blinked as he stood before her. He wore a long cloak of soft woodland hues, which contrasted sharply with his tousled black hair.

'Tinuial! Where have you been all this day?' Thaliondil, son of Durthol, demanded breathlessly. His countenance was stern, and a little reproachful, 'Since nightfall I have searched these woods, fearing that some evil had befallen you!'

Tinuial noted that his gaze flickered with annoyance, and thought it wisest not to argue.

'Peace, my brother.' (for so she called him). She looked evenly into his rain-grey eyes, 'I meant no harm. Yet how could anyone bear to remain indoors upon such a night?'

'We must hasten!' Thaliondil took his sister's arm with a gentleness that belied his severe manner, and steered her firmly towards the lights of home.

Neither Tinuial nor her brother could have guessed at the tragedy the rise of midnight would bring.


	2. A Soldier's Plight

Chapter 1 - A Soldier's Plight 

Thaliondil sat alone in the shadows, lost in the lonely paths of his thought. A dark mood was upon him, though he knew not why. Suddenly, his sharp ears picked up the sound of clattering hooves upon the hard stone of the courtyard. Seizing and unveiling his lantern he strode out into the chill night, his heels tapping fiercely against the cold ground.

'Who goes there?' He did not allow his voice to waver. Peering into the gloom, Thaliondil scowled in trepidation as a tall rider dismounted before him, his footfalls echoing faintly in the darkness. The stranger strode confidently into the light. He was indeed an Elf, though worn with care even as a mortal man. His flaxen hair was thin and unkempt, and a taut, grim expression was upon his lined face. His grey raiment was in places torn and his heavy boots were caked in mud. He was breathless, and spoke rapidly with a rush of hurried words.

'I must speak with Durthol! I believe this to be his abode.' He cried urgently. Thaliondil frowned, making no effort to conceal his misgivings.

'It is,' he replied. 'I am Thaliondil son of Durthol. What is your business?' He eyed the stranger doubtfully, perhaps a little rudely, openly disliking the look of him.

'Tell your father the hour draws near - we depart at dawn.'

'Whither do you go?' Demanded Thaliondil abruptly.

'To battle. Orcs are marauding on our borders. A great host of the vile creatures approaches our realm, so the scouts report.' The stranger hesitated as though waiting for some reaction. Thaliondil was unmoved.

'That is no news,' He argued sullenly. 'Orcs have ever stalked the borders of these lands, and ever they are driven back. This matter does not concern my father. He no longer battles against the forces of the Enemy, for he is lame.'

'Nonetheless he has vowed to ride alongside my company, for his strength and valour endures.' The rider mounted his grey horse, and raised a grimy hand in gesture of farewell.

'You are mistaken!' Thaliondil cried heatedly, but the rider did not heed him, and rode off in great haste. Thaliondil watched the retreating form of the stranger, as he disappeared and was swallowed by the darkness. The clatter of the galloping horse drifted for some time upon the air, until it slowly faded and was gone, like smoke dissipating in the breeze. Shivering, he drew his cloak close about him and turned round. He started as he beheld his father stood in the open doorway. He was shrouded in darkness and barely visible, yet his tall, proud bearing, despite his maimed foot, was unmistakable. Thaliondil held up his lantern. Durthol's face was stern and impassive, yet distictly ashen.

'Father? What goes forth? Tell me that this fool is mistaken!' He gazed into his father's eyes. They were harsh as grey stone, and almost as impenetrable, guarding his thoughts. Durthol replied inflectionlessly,

'Am I not a soldier?' His voice was unwavering, and cold. 'Many long years it seems, since I have felt the glory of battle. Though the strength of my body is lessened, my spirit is restless within me, and I have fallen into dishonour.'

'Dishonour? And you would take orders from a band of ruffians?' Remarked Thaliondil fractiously. Durthol was silent, but gave his son a warning glance.

'Why must you do this? Answer me father!' He met Durthol's cold gaze fiercely.

'To avenge the death of my beloved wife, your mother, whom neither of us shall forget!' Thaliondil flinched, and turned away. His father did not relent.

'I tried to defend her from the Orcs, and almost it cost me my life. Yet at the last I failed. And no peace have I known since that dark day! Each night my sleep is disturbed by the echoes of her screams - she whose voice was soft as the rain of heaven -' he faltered, and seemed for a moment at a loss, until he resumed more steadily. 'The time has come. Understand, my son, that I can no longer remain idle, and I fight for the sweet memory of Tarien.' At this moment, Durthol drew back his cloak, unsheathed his glistening sword and held it aloft. It gleamed bitterly in the icy glare of the lantern. Thaliondil gazed at the blade, his eyes burning with tears, much to his shame.

'My father, your ridng to war shall avail nothing, save to bring grief to those that love you! I percieve that under no circumstances would you allow me to ride alongside you, and you would have me remain and care for my sisters.'

'So it must be! For I will not leave them unguarded. You are strong and valiant, and can bear arms, yet I deem that you are too young for a trial such as this. You must abide by my judgement in this matter. You will give me your word that you shall guard Annariel and Tinuial, and shall keep them from harm as best you can.' He placed his sword back in its golden sheath. Thaliondil spoke softly, yet his words were tinged with hate:

'As for that, how can I refuse? Yes, I vow to care for my sisters. Would that you were so loyal to your kin. For you know in your heart that mother would not have willed this - she would blanch at the mere mention of war!'

'And she now lies dead at the foul hands of the Orcs! Her gentleness aided her not!'

'This is sheer madness!' Thaliondil raged, unable to control himself. 'For the fact remains, father, that it is your _own _will, not hers that drives you into peril. Do not claim to seek vengeance, for clearly now do I see your mind. It is _death _you seek!'

'You would do well to show your father more respect!' Durthol's voice had become perilous, and he clenched his fists in anger. His fury, however, was easily matched and mirrored in the eyes of his son.

"Respect, indeed! A man _earns _respect by showing strength; not by abandoning his loved ones in favour of a swift death because he is too craven to face his own despair! Am I to respect _that_, father?" Durthol, pale with rage, drew a breath as though to argue, but merely let out a shuddering sigh. His eyes were changed somehow; weakened, as though something deep within him had broken. There was a stricken pause. In the past, when Thaliondil had spoken to his father in such a manner, Durthol would not have hesitated in beating his son half-senseless. They had fought before, often. Yet this was somehow different; instead of reacting with his habitual anger, Durthol merely looked defeated, and old - so terribly old. Thaliondil stared at his father, noticing for the first time how the flesh of his face now clung so tightly to his bones, hollowed out by the grief and despair at losing the wife he had treasured above all things, and how frail and wasted his limbs had become over the months. Thaliondil felt a sudden stab of remorse, and wished suddenly that his father would strike him; give him the beating he deserved, and then they could simply go back to how it was before.

'My words were harsh,' Thaliondil said quietly. 'I'm sorry. I..I did not intend to cause you pain.' The words came not easily, for he was proud as was his father. Durthol, however, showed no sign that he had even heard, and he stood motionless and cold amid the shadows.

'Father! Will you not answer me?'

'Bid farewell to Tinuial and Annariel.' Without looking at his son, he turned with a limp more pronounced than ever before, and melted into the hollow gloom of the house.

Thaliondil stared blankly after his father, unable to move or to weep. His heart seemed suddenly to freeze within him. Nothing of the hours that followed could he afterwards recall to memory, save that the empty darkness seethed coldly about him like the dark tide of death.


	3. A Broken Home is an Empty Shell

Chapter 2 - A Broken Home is an Empty Shell

Tinuial awoke to find the earliest rays of dawn spilling in through her window. Since childhood she had cared little for the full light of the sun, thinking it harsh as a blazing fire, yet the beauty of the sunrise could not be denied. The pale light ascended the milk-grey sky in shoots of silken radiance. A tide of illumination rose to the high heavens, and cast strands of feathery light to the emerging world below. The land was fair, and became more so as the dawn revealed it. From Tinuial's home, which was situated atop a gentle sloping hill, she could discern the grey woods stretching off to the South like a thick carpet clinging to the precipitous earth.

To the North, green hills drifted into the sky like great towers, and the mountains beyond lay hid. The River Narog lay out of sight to the West, and beyond was the fortress of Nargothrond - and the caves of King Felagund, who did not return. Tinuial had been there seldom, though her brother, Thaliondil was an errand-rider and would often bring messages before the King. Much of the time there was little to report, for no danger seemed to touch this fair place, and Tinuial had known only peace since her abiding there. Yet the hearts of the Elves were troubled, and there was darkness and deadly peril in the outside world, if the whispered tales held truth. Tinuial had begun to perceive that someday this mild tranquility would end, and that beauty would fade and die from this land, whether she should live to witness it or no.

Ominous thoughts such as these were far from the mind of Annariel, daughter of Durthol, as she sat beside the busy stream that flowed lithe and bright from the hills. The water glinted, like dripping diamond in the sunlight as it ran its rippling course, and bubbled over the many-coloured stones and pebbles at its bed. The sight brought to Annariel's mind the smoky images drawn by the melodies of minstrels - spidersilk portraits of a world that once was. Distant pictures floated faintly before her eyes: waves pale and clear as the tears of stars, lapping the jewel-dusted shores of Valinor. Annariel smiled softly, and lay upon the grassy bank, her bright hair gleaming yellow against the vivid green. Out of the corner of her eye, she marked the approach of her young sister, Tinuial.

'Where is Thaliondil?' Asked Tinuial abruptly, disturbing the settled peace of the scene.

'I know not,' Annariel replied, in a melodic voice. 'He departed ere the rising of the sun, I believe.'

Tinuial's brow furrowed, as she tried to pinpoint the source of her dull anxiety. Annariel sat up, newly-kindled sunbeams dancing upon her sweet face. She was the very mirror-image of her mother, Tarien, just as Thaliondil was his father's. Her dark blue eyes sparkled as she met her sister's worried gaze.

'Do not frown so!' Annariel exclaimed, 'Your face would be fairer were it brightened by the occasional smile.'

Tinuial raised a sceptical eyebrow, and made no response. She gazed up into the bright heavens. The sun burned pure and sublime as a beacon of enchanted gold, melting the doubtful things of night from memory with its dazzling touch. Yet strangely unable to dispel the faint imprint of darkness from her mind, she turned and searched distractedly for her brother, leaving Annariel staring once more into the clear waters beside her. Sisters they were in heart, though not in blood, and each passing year that flooded the green hills and valleys of Nargothrond seemed only to widen the gap between them.

The abode of Durthol and his kin had become strangely subdued - the dust-fringed halls and corridors had known merrier days. It stood now cold and near-silent, like a wraith-grey memory haunting the crest of the gentle hill. In ancient days, the building had been a gaurd tower, yet it had lain empty for long years, for the creatures of Morgoth never troubled this country in the heart of the great realm. Dour and comfortless the tower had been before the arrival of Tarien the fair, who was a weaver, and would drape radiant tapestries upon the bare walls, that shimmered even in darkness. With her golden beauty and the sound of her voice, the halls became flooded with light and sweet laughter. Since the passing of Tarien, all laughter had seemed stilted to the ears of Durthol, and he had grown cold and grim, ever gnawed by despair and guilt. During his last days in this house there had been endlessly tormented by the memory of his wife, who had been dearer to him than the divine lights of heaven.

Thaliondil threw open the doors of his father's chamber. Durthol was gone. Thick curtains veiled the window, and the room was bathed in grey shadow. Eyeing the chamber coldly, Thaliondil noted that it was much the same as ever, save that his many of father's weapons had been taken. In the chalky half-light, he discerned a small object upon the mantelpiece that caught his eye. Stumbling over to where it stood, he picked the thing up softly and clutched it in his trembling hand. It was the small figure of a running horse, sculpted of sleek black stone. It had belonged to his mother. Filled suddenly with a crushing sense of loss, he cast the thing to the ground, and it was cloven in two as it smote the hard floor. He fell to his knees beside the small broken object, and wept like a child.

Some time had passed, hours maybe, but Thaliondil could not tell. He had long ceased to weep, deciding somehow that tears were a luxury he could not afford. He cursed himself for his weakness - it was not a man's place to cry and wail like a babe in arms or a maiden. He sat now in heavy silence gazing ahead with unseeing eyes.

'Thaliondil!'

Tinuial ran over to her brother and knelt beside him.

'What is wrong? Have you taken hurt?' His face was pale and drawn, and stained with tears. When he did not answer Tinuial sighed and glanced to the floor, where she noticed the broken carving.

'How did this happen?' she whispered softly. Thaliondil turned to her.

'I broke it,' his voice was quiet, and all memory of his wrath had faded.

'How strange that it should be broken in such a way.' She picked up one of the pieces. By some chance, the statue had been cloven through the centre in an almost straight line, and when held to the side, it seemed whole.

'It can be mended.' She added hopefully.

'No, my sister. It cannot.' He sighed. He had no choice but to tell her of all that had befallen. And while he recounted the tale Tinuial sat silent and gazed sadly into her brother's eyes. After a while, Annariel joined them, and she too sat by her brother and listened to his account of what had befallen.

'Would that I had been able to dissude him.' Thaliondil muttered at last.

'You must not blame yourself.' Annariel tried to speak words of comfort, yet her face was grave and sad. 'Nothing would have prevented him, save death.'

'Death is all that he will find.'

'We do not know what may come to pass,' Annariel replied. 'He may yet live! We must have faith in him.'

'You did not see the fell light in his eyes,' Thaliondil replied dismally. 'You did not hear his words.'

'I did not. Yet still I look to his returning.' Annariel rose and left. Tinuial also rose, but she did not depart, and stood looking thoughtfully at her brother, who sat slumped against the harsh grey wall.

'I do not wish to remain here, only to await the return of one who will not come.' Her voice was empty, drained, as though she had reached some stage of stillness beyond sorrow.

'Annariel speaks truly,' Thaliondil said softly. 'Perhaps he will return, and all shall be well again. You must hope.' Yet his face belied his words entirely.

'You speak to me as though you address a child.' She replied a little indignantly.

'You are little more than a child, even by the reckoning of your own people.' He argued sternly.

'My own people!' She cried. 'Then you regard me as a stranger?'

'I did not say that.'

'Yet I am different from you and Annariel. I am mortal, and my years in this world are few. We mortals are weak - lowly when compared to the glory and strength of the Eldar. It has always been a source of great sorrow for me that the Doom of Men should be my fate. Soon enough I must die from this world, leaving behind all my loved ones. I must depart, soon or late.' Thaliondil watched her leave, but did not consider what she might mean.


	4. Arreion

Chapter 3 - Arreion

The world was enveloped in the deep shades of gloaming. Leaden cloud veiled the moon, and the light of the few visible stars seemed dimmed. Tinuial wept silently. Her anguish could not be bourne, and no choice was left to her. She had to leave. So overwhelmed was she by her grief that she could barely see for tears, and her body shook with sobs. The air seemed heavy with the cloying scent of loss and decline. Doom closed in about her. She longed to follow Durthol, and yet she knew not whither he had gone. She paced her dark chamber, caught in confusion. Every voice of inner reason spoke against her departure. For this land was fair, and safer than any place else that she knew of. Here dwelt all those whom she loved, and how could she abandon her brother and sister without misery and remorse? There would be no security or comfort for her past the borders, and death stalked the darkness of the wide lands beyond. Now the notion of death did not strike fear through her heart, and yet she did not wish to end her life. That would be no escape, for Tinuial knew that her grief would pursue her beyond the ends of the world. She began to pack her things, for she had already decided what course of action to take, though her mind was still in conflict. She knew little of the lands beyond Nargothrond, save that they were perilous, though in this hour she feared nothing.

She left her chamber and made her way to the back door, where she hoped to leave without being seen. Every room and hallway of the bright dwelling was filled with beauty and memory, though all was now stained by grief and bitterness. This fair house had become loathsome, like a broken mirror looking out onto the past. She must find new happiness, if there was any to be had in this world, and if fate willed it. She was clad in a thick grey mantle which blended softly into the gloom, and she passed into the night like a whisper of the wind. She took one last look at the house atop the green hill, and hesitated for an instant. A tear fell down her pale cheek as she thought of Thaliondil and Annariel. Yet they could not keep her from her doom. For in any case, her mortality would take her from them soon enough, and in one way or another she must leave them forever. With a shaking voice, she whispered into the darkness:

'Farewell, brother and sister of my heart. You would not have me leave, yet leave I must, or fade and die where I stand. May you both find joy and hope, and may you both forgive me.'

She turned then from the place she called home, and stole into the shadows, never to behold this land again so long as she lived.

Annariel stood motionless upon a ridge of the hills, staring into the dark heavens with tears in her beautiful eyes. She was not far from home, yet the shadows veiled her sight and she did not mark the shrouded figure of Tinuial as she departed. Annariel awaited the arrival of Arreion, her lover. They had first met in this very place when they had been children, and on that bright day they had promised themselves to each other. Annariel ceased to weep as she remembered it. The world had been radiant on that day. The azure sky had been aflame with shimmering sunbeams, and all the land was a luminous haze of light. Though her bright beauty was now hidden by the shadows of dusk, and the glory of that day had long since faded, her love remained, and the heart of Annariel ever belonged to Arreion. Even as she recalled the distant past, Arreion emerged from the deep shadows before her. He was tall, and strode with effortless dignity over the rough terrain. His golden hair was drawn back off his face, and his grey eyes were bright and piercing, like cold starlight mirrored upon a steel blade. He bore a bow and quiver. Annariel ran to him, and held him in her arms. And so they met, two silent figures shown up by the faint starlight.

Annariel told him of all that had befallen, as they stood together in that high place, and she wept once more as grief overcame her, for despite her words, in her heart she knew that Durthol would not return. Arreion held her close to him, though he could think of nothing to say. Suddenly, a swift breath of wind descended upon the earth. Wisps of cloud were torn and dragged across the sky, and the moon shone out for a time. The brilliant white light fell upon Annariel's face, and her yellow hair shone and glimmered like burnished gold. Arreion smiled sadly.

'Fear no darkness, or sorrow.' He said at last, and his voice was low and soft. 'For the light which you possess can be neither dimmed nor quenched. All the world seems to have changed since the day when first we met, and much sorrow has befallen, yet you remain the same. Your mirth and beauty shall never fade, so long as this world lasts.' He took her hand in his, and she smiled amid her tears.

'It is our love that lends me strength,' She whispered. 'It is many years since first we plighted our troth. Promise me that you love me still, and shall never turn your heart from me.'

'I could not cease to adore you, for we are one,' he gazed into her blue eyes. 'My heart is bound to yours, and our fates shall be ever entwined.' Sharp gusts of wind glided upon the atmosphere. Annariel's hair flailed in the wind like the frantic wings of caged birds, and her mantle, deep blue as the depths of the ocean, streamed out behind her. She shivered, and met the gaze of Arreion. His eyes were curious, for they did not change, but remained ever keen and sharp. They held no malice or bitterness, and yet betrayed nothing of what lay behind. Arreion had ever guarded his innermost thoughts, and what he felt at any particular time few could tell. Annariel drew her eyes away from him, and looked towards home. She wished now to find her brother and sister, for they needed all the comfort she could give. Taking the hand of Arreion gently, she strode off in search of Thaliondil and Tinuial.

Thaliondil knocked softly on the door of Tinuial's chamber. The door was slightly ajar, and the pale moonlight spilled out into the hallway. His face was no longer as grave, and yet a distant desolation was in his gaze, as though he carried all the world's grief behind his clear grey eyes. Hours he had spent alone in despair, but soon his thoughts had returned to his sisters, and he felt ashamed for thinking only of himself. He was girt now with a sword which had belonged to Durthol in the days of his youth. Thaliondil had discovered it, discarded upon the floor of his father's chamber, and vowed now to carry it always in memory of his father. It was a bitter reminder and a cold comfort to him, but he thought it his duty to keep it. He passed his hand across his brow, brushing his black hair from his eyes, and he knocked once more on the cold door.

'Tinuial?' His voice echoed through the empty house, but there was no answer from within the chamber. Thaliondil thought this strange, for his sister seldom slept at this hour, and was often wakeful far into the night. He pushed the door open, and started as he beheld many of his sister's belongings strewn across the stone floor, and some objects broken, which she had dropped in her haste. He saw clearly what had befallen, for he knew his sister well. He turned, and rushed frantically through the house seeking for her, and he sped finally into the courtyard. There was no sign of Tinuial, yet she could not be long gone, for barely two hours had passed since he had seen her. Caught for a moment between wrath and despair he remained rooted to the spot, until his thoughts were interrupted by a cry from Annariel. She called to him in her high voice, broke away from Arreion and ran lightly across the courtyard towards her brother.

'Are you well?' She asked breathlessly, breaking the deathly silence.

'Tinuial is gone.' He said. Annariel gasped in disbelief, and her face dropped. Arreion strode up behind her, his heels clicking softly against the hard stone. Like a tall spectre he seemed, the moonlight reflecting upon his solemn grey eyes. Thaliondil regarded him coldly, but spoke no word to him.

'Whither has she gone? Did she leave any sign or token?' Annariel demanded desperately.

'She left no sign, and I know only that she is gone.' He replied morosely.

'We must find her!' Annariel cried. 'Come, let us call for her in the woods!'

'She will not reply even were she to hear us! She does not mean to return, that much I see.'

'Arreion is a huntsman!' Annariel turned hurriedly to him. 'You can find her trail and lead us to her, can you not?' Arreion hesitated for an instant, as though unsure of how to reply.

'I can attempt it, though I make no promises.' He said at last. Thaliondil glared at him, for it was clear to him that Arreion withheld something.

'You are unwilling!' He growled, 'Do you wish to condemn Tinuial to death? For she cannot survive alone!' His eyes glinted with aggression, but Arreion remained unmoved.

'Perhaps her departure is for the best. It is her own decision! Her death is not certain in any case, and none can forsee what may come to pass.' Arreion spoke calmly, and his voice was hushed.

'You speak as though you want rid of her!' Thaliondil advanced forward, and his tone was none too soft.

'I wish the girl no harm,' he argued smoothly. 'I can aid you, and yet I fear that evil would come of it.'

'Speak plainer!' Thaliondil insisted. 'For I am in no mood for riddles!'

'Small benefit have the Eldar gained from their dealings with the race of Men! The two kindreds are separate, and should be kept so.' His conflicted gaze almost seemed to illuminate the shadows.

'I shall waste no more time exchanging words with the likes of you!' Thaliondil spat fiercely. 'I go in search of my sister, with or without your aid.' He started off away down the hill, but Arreion called after him.

'Very well - I shall do all within my power to find Tinuial.' Yet as he spoke a gleam of sorrow came into his profound eyes, and he seemed deep in thought. Annariel gazed at him as though trying to see his mind and penetrate the secrets hidden therein. Yet as ever she could see nothing beneath the surface of his stony grey eyes, and the air of dark mystery which had ever surrounded him remained untouched and inexplicable.

'You should remain here, my love.' He said gently to Annariel, and the glint had vanished from his eyes. 'Until we return with your sister.'

'I shall not be left alone here.' She replied, 'For this place is no longer fair to me, and in any case I would be more use alongside you. There is little love between you and my brother, that I know, and there must be one among you to keep peace!' Annariel darted inside to fetch a lantern, and emerged moments later holding it aloft, her eyes glimmering coldly in the strong light.

'Make haste!' Thaliondil cried impatiently from the darkness. He had started off alone, but awaited them now some way down the hill. Arreion sighed in exasperation as Annariel took his arm and gently steered him downwards. He spoke then under his breath as they walked.

'It is true, Annariel, that your brother and I are anything but friends. Yet I say to you that this is through no fault of mine!' Annariel laughed merrily. No grief or horror seemed ever to touch her, and as a divine image of glory and splendour she now appeared to Arreion, as the light she bore fell gently upon her laughing face and her bright glistening hair. He smiled, but abruptly turned his face away as though some other thought had occurred to him, and his mind was momentarily stolen from the maiden at his side. He breathed deeply, and began to search for signs of Tinuial.


	5. A Chance Meeting

A/N - I'd just like to say; if anyone at all is reading this, could you _please _give a review to tell me what you think? Just a few words would be great. Thankyou.

Chapter 4 - A Chance Meeting

All was silent. The mournful white moonlight fell softly upon the gnarled, twisted old trees and their myriads of grey branches. A delicate wind hissed through the leaves, and made them rustle dryly in unison. This forest seemed endless, a deep ocean of forlorn grey, and lost somewhere within was Tinuial. It was days since she had stumbled into this place, although she had lost count of how many. The trees seemed to close in around her, so close to each other that she could barely find her way through. Her path seemed somehow already set before her, and there was naught for her to do but follow it blindly. She came suddenly to a clearing of the woods, and unable to move any further she slumped to the ground with her back to a dead tree. It was hollow, but immense in height and girth, and its crippled branches reached up to the heavens as though in a silent plea. The incandescence of the moon was almost spent, but ere they died the remains of reluctant light fell upon the sleeping forest, and the pale face of Tinuial. She wept now anew, and her tears shimmered with a cold, spectral sheen as they fell, making her face appear as a mask of white glass. Her hair was tangled and fell loose upon her shoulders, yet still it glistened like ice in the dying light.

Tinuial looked about her. She had no idea which direction she had been travelling in; for much of the time the stars and moon had been hidden by a thick roof of leaves and distant cloud, but it now seemed that she had veered predominantly to the East. Her hurriedly packed supplies were running low, and she wondered how she would find food in the Winter months. Yet such thoughts as these dwelt not long in her mind, for though she was sorrowful, and bitterly regretted leaving Thaliondil and Annariel, she had seldom felt freedom of this kind, and each glimpse of the unclouded sky filled her heart with a longing for new and unexplored lands. Each breath of wind whispered of lands wide and beautiful beyond her imagining, and her desire to fly as wild and feral as the wind itself increased with each passing day. She rose to her feet and resolved to journey a little further ere she slept, for though she did not travel with great speed she allowed herself little rest. On she journeyed until daybreak, when the sun was spreading its earliest glimmer through the dull sky. She then fell into a dreamless sleep just moments after setting her head upon the soft ground.

Tinuial woke with a start. It was broad daylight, though in this region the trees were thick and let through only vague glimpses of the sun. She had slept for a few hours and was still weary, yet something had woken her. At that moment she heard a distant noise as of dry twigs breaking underfoot. The shadows veiled her sight as she peered into the darkness of the grey trees. She heard the noise again. Hurriedly, she leapt to her feet and stole behind the thick moss-covered trunk of a nearby tree. The sound of the approach of heavy feet grew louder and nearer, and Tinuial held her breath. The sounds grew louder, until they were only a few paces distant. Feeling sure she would be discovered, Tinuial decided to meet the stranger. She stooped to the ground and picked up a dry branch which lay amid the green undergrowth, for she had not thought to bring any weapons. In any case she possessed no skill with either sword or bow, for she had never been required to use them. She felt it perhaps too late to regret this, as she held the branch in both hands and prepared to strike.

Tinuial sprang out from behind the tree with a suddenness which even startled herself, and found herself face to face with a hideous Orc. She gasped and hesitated for an instant. The creature also stopped in its tracks, clearly disorientated. Nothing so monstrous could Tinuial recall seeing or imagining in all her life. Its pale, scarred flesh seemed to seethe over its hideous head and limbs like the surface of a writhing mire. Its grotesque face was sallow and shrunken, and loose, translucent skin hung in folds about its wretched neck. Tinuial had obviously surprised the creature, and taking full advantage of this she smote him in the face with all her might. The creature staggered back slightly, but the blow did him no serious damage, and after a moment he advanced with rage burning in his fiery red eyes. Its breathing was feverish and harsh, and it wheezed and croaked as though its lungs were cramped in its chest. Tinuial swung the branch again, hitting it squarely on its hideous nose, yet this availed little save to anger the creature. It made a screeching roar, and its open mouth was wide and unsymmetrical as a gaping rent amid its face - like the slash of a cruel sword. Tinuial took a step backwards, and began to wonder if she could outrun this creature. At this point she noticed a blade in a dark scabbard hanging from a worn belt about the creature's waist.

The Orc advanced further, its outstretched hands and long claws grasping for her throat. Seizing her chance she smote the creature once more, summoning up all her strength and dealing a sharp blow to its filthy hand as it came close to her face. The branch cracked, and the Orc pulled it roughly from her grasp with its uninjured claw. Darting forward Tinuial grasped the crude sword and pulled it from the scabbard while the Orc held the branch aloft, ready to strike. The branch was cloven asunder as it came crashing down upon her shoulder, driven by the fell fist of the Orc, and guided by the malice of its mind. It missed her head only by an inch, yet the pain was immense, and Tinuial cried out in agony and fell to her knees. The sword was far heavier than she had imagined, for she was not particularly strong. She lifted it with difficulty, and stabbed downwards, piercing the flesh of the Orc's foot. He let out a terrible cry, as his dark blood spilled smoking from the wound to the forest floor. The Orc stumbled backwards over a protruding tree root, and fell to the ground. Unable to do aught else, Tinuial drove the sword through its throat. The Orc remained still, and life slowly faded from its eyes. Tinuial turned away, shaking like a leaf in the breeze, and she hurriedly made ready to leave. But at that moment, she was startled to hear a voice from the shadows of the trees.

'Well done!' It declared with a small chuckle. 'An admirable effort indeed, my lady.' Tinuial started, and her darkling eyes strained into the gloom.

'Show yourself!' She demanded, trembling.

'Pardon me, if I startled you.' A figure emerged from the shadow, and strode soundlessly amongst the trees. After a moment he stood before her - a tall, handsome man with dark unkempt hair shorn about his shoulders, and piercing green eyes. He was wild and wayworn, his raiment stained with blood and filth, yet he bore himself as proudly as any man she had ever seen, and his face grim and stern. Nonetheless, his bright cat-eyes sparkled with amusement as he beheld Tinuial. She regarded him with some surprise, for if she was right in her guess, then here stood a mortal man.

'Rarely have I witnessed such a battle!' He grinned widely. Tinuial was thoroughly apalled.

'And you did not think to aid me?' She exclaimed disbelievingly. 'Almost that creature cost me my life! Would you simply have stood idly by and watch it kill me!'

'My Lady, if you are not the match in battle for a single Orc, then your days would be short numbered indeed! Yet I deem that a miserable Orc could not take the life of a maiden such as yourself. ' He looked her in the eyes.

'Who are you?' She asked stiffly, feeling distinctly uncomfortable under his piercing gaze, and hoping he had not realised. 'And what is your business?'

'You would know much, my girl.' He replied sharply, the humour fading from his face as his mouth set in a stern grimace. 'I am an outlaw. My company was scattered, mostly slain I believe, for the number and strength of the Orcs was greater than we feared. The days are dark indeed, and war will come to all lands ere the end. Yet we all do as we are able. For my part, I destroy every foul creature of Morgoth that dares to cross my path. And far into this forest I pursued the miserable creature who slew my companion - a valiant and masterful captain he was indeed, mighty even among the Eldar, his own kin. But no matter, for an Elf maiden has completed my mission for me!' He gazed once more into her dark, soft eyes, as though trying to read her thoughts.

'No Elf am I.' She replied coldly. He was slightly taken aback, and looked closely at her face.

'Forgive me,' He replied. 'Yet to me you appeared as a fair Elven maid of the Isles of the West, in whom the light of the trees is not yet dimmed. I see that you are sorrowful, but your grief is needless. Do not envy the fate of the Eldar! In dark days such as these, I would count immortality as a curse - and their slow burning fire may yet fade. The spirits of men are brief in this world indeed, and yet for this they sometimes burn the brighter. Consider the Mormegil! He is by all accounts the saviour of your land! Yet I deem that even the strength and prowess of the black sword will avail little in the end.' Tinuial stared at the stranger, her previous anger all but forgotten. Almost despite herself, she felt oddly drawn to this man, to his strange ways, and to his words, sometimes so blunt, and sometimes so courteous.

'Do not fear, Lady!' he spoke now more softly than before. 'For you shall outlast this dying kingdom. Tell me your name, ere I depart!' He took a step backwards warily, looking about him with sharp eyes as though he sensed that danger was close.

'Tinuial I was called,' She replied, and paused. 'Please sir, do not to abandon me here alone!' She took a step towards him. He shook his head, and backed further into the shadows.

'I must.' He replied, 'For I have other errands, far more pressing.' His eyes twinkled, and he met her forlorn gaze with a slow smile. 'I leave you in safe hands, I deem. Farewell, sweet Tinuial, until we meet once more.'

Before Tinuial could cry out, he was gone. She stood motionless for some time, staring at the empty space between the trees where he had stood. At last she turned and departed from the place, thinking it unsafe to linger too long. Her mind reeled with confusion. Whence came this strange man? Who was he, and what were the meanings behind his ominous words? He was unlike any man she had met in Nargothrond, with his abrupt manner and wild appearance. And his eyes spoke of a freedom for which Tinuial secretly longed. She chided herself silently for being taken with a man so uncouth and wild - so he seemed indeed to Tinuial, who had, after all, lived a rather sheltered life. Nonetheless, it pleased her more than she would have thought possible to think that this man had deemed her to be beautiful; for though every Elf of the land of her home would complement a Lady on her appearance, this stranger did not seem to be a man to act purely out of politeness. She smiled.


	6. Torn In Two

A/N - Many thanks to The Last Temptation of Homer for the kind review! This one's for you.  
Btw, the story will definitely improve as it goes along.

Chapter 5 - Torn In Two

Tinuial trudged wearily through the shrouded woods, paying little heed to her surroundings. The hours passed silently, and still she had seen no sign of any other living creature.

'Tinuial!' A horrifyingly sudden exclamation close at hand startled her out of her thoughts, and she jumped violently as a hand was laid upon her arm. She turned, and found herself staring into the face of her brother. She was speechless, and gaped at him blankly. He was clearly relieved to see her, yet his wrath, always bubbling beneath the surface, appeared to get the better of him for an instant.

'Tinuial! What madness has possessed you?' He raged furiously, 'You must not leave! Did you not think of the grief you would cause?' At that moment, Annariel and Arreion came rushing breathlessly up to them. Annariel cried with joy, and flung her arms about her sister. Tinuial was stunned, and knew not what to say. But at this moment a thought occurred to her, like a sudden gleam of hope - her brother and sister were far from their home, and if she could only persuade them to flee with her then they may escape the evils which approached their land, of which the stranger had spoken.

'Have you nothing to say?' Her brother cried. 'No word of thanks, even? For we have pursued you for days!'

'I did not wish it.' Tinuial said quietly. 'I thank you for your concern, and I beg your pardon indeed for the trouble I have caused.'

'It matters not, my sister!' Annariel exclaimed, 'I am thankful merely to find you alive and whole! Come, we return home at once.' Tinuial's face fell. She realised that making them understand her actions would be no simple task, and persuading them to allow her to depart, let alone accompany her, may prove near impossible.

'I cannot!.' Tinuial exclaimed desperately. She then told in a shaking voice all that she could explain of her fears and her reasons for leaving. She left silent the matter of the mysterious stranger, and mentioned nothing of her battle with the Orc. As she spoke, she was constantly distracted by the disturbing gaze of Arreion as he stared intently at her face. Thaliondil was now silent, for in his heart he too wished to leave, and had no desire to return home now that it lay at last so far behind. He did not perhaps share in Tinuial's wild longing for the taste of freedom, or her reckless hope of peace, happiness, or whatever it was she wished to attain in the wide lands of Middle-Earth - it was merely that his past was now steeped in a bitterness no amount of time could iradicate. He had not the heart to turn back. To return once again to their empty shell of a home would have entirely crushed the last flimsy bastion of endurance in his soul. Annariel, however, stood aghast throughout Tinuial's grim tirade. Arreion eyed Tinuial dubiously, and she glared back at him with growing dislike. There was a heavy silence.

'You are strange to me, Tinuial.' Said Annariel at length. 'Thaliondil! Is this not madness?' She turned to her brother. His face was drawn and ashen, and he could not meet her pleading gaze.

'Were I never to see the lights of home again, I would not grieve,' he replied sullenly. 'I have no desire to remain in Nargothrond, were it to stand or fall. All that concerns me is the promise I made to my father ere he left. I swore to guard my sisters from harm. Since Tinuial will not remain here save by force, if I am to protect her I must follow her. Annariel, however, would not be willing to leave. Is that not so, my sister?'

'I cannot leave,' she half-whispered. 'You need not concern yourself about me, for while Arreion remains by my side I shall need no protection.' Annariel looked into her lover's eyes, and he smiled in return.

'Then I leave my sister in your care,' Thaliondil spoke to Arreion more kindly than ever before, though still with a hint of his old reserve. 'I deem you to be trustworthy.' Annariel's face split unto a shimmering smile, for never had her brother spoken to Arreion in such a way.

'Then in token of friendship, I will guide you to the borders of our Realm. Though it is not custom.' Arreion replied. Thaliondil smiled, stiffly, as though his face was unused to it, and nodded his approval. Annariel sighed sadly, gazing at Thaliondil and Tinuial, and she took the hand of Arreion. Tinuial could not take her eyes from Arreion, and found herself caught between distrust and fascination. He seemed quite willing to guide them, in order to prove his good will, yet it seemed to Tinuial that he was eager only to see them leave. She caught the gleam in his eye as he looked at her, and wondered if she had done something to anger him.

The piercing glare of dawn spread through the heavens like flame. The air was mild, and no frost or Winter's chill dared mar its gentle ambience. And yet a faint, musty hint of the approaching Autumn drifted upon the breeze, though the world still clung tightly to the ailing ghost of Summer. The sun appeared now as a blinding disk of sharp red, wreathed in molten cloud. A long time it seemed to Tinuial since the four companions had begun to journey North towards the Guarded Plain of Nargothrond. They had left the slumbering grey forests long behind, and the ground became gradually higher and more mountainous as the bones of the earth were hauled upwards and joined with the sky. Tinuial thought now less of her strange meeting with the mortal in the shadowy forest, and she buried all thoughts and feelings deep in her heart. She did not care to recall the past, and she dared not consider the future. Her eyes beheld only the sun as it rose and fell, and the path set immediately before her feet. Thaliondil seemed more at ease than he had been in a long time, as though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and his grey eyes were no longer as cold and sorrowful as they had become of late. Neither he nor Tinuial had any clear idea where they went, save that each were of a mind to leave their Realm within a few days, and pass into the East. Annariel had resolved to travel alongside them as long as they lingered within the borders of their land, and Arreion led them now North-East in the direction of the Falls of Sirion. As the day drew on, they seemed to travel more directly to the East, and all began to realise that they must soon bid farewell to one another, and that Thaliondil and Tinuial went into an exile that was likely to last their entire lives. When the sun was high in the sky the companions rested together, though their conversation was brief and stilted, for an inescapable sadness seemed to seep through their hearts. Shortly they trudged on once more, as the bright day was reduced to a solemn evening. Tinuial felt somehow uneasy, and she gazed about her at the lengthening shadows, trying to discern what disturbed her.

'It is well that we rest now,' sighed Arreion. 'When the sun ascends, we must away.' The last hazy glimmer of the sun glanced upon his grey eyes ere it faded, and he stood long in silence as still as the darkness. None answered him, though all understood that the time to part drew close.

'Let us rest then.' Thaliondil said in barely more than a whisper, as though he feared to disturb the silence.

As her companions lay silently in a sheltered dell, Tinuial rose and followed a stony path into the hills. She could not sleep, and was troubled, for the hushed peace of the night seemed unnatural, and felt disturbingly like the unearthly stillness which would proceed a wrathful tempest. The path rose steeply, and Tinuial climbed tirelessly upwards, like a shade drifting into the glowering heavens. She stood at last upon a high slope among the hills, regarding the night. Darkness flowed through all the ways of the world, and all was cloaked in shadow, broken only by the faint light of a few scant stars. Her pale hair ensnared the misted starlight and shimmered softly, yet her face was concealed in the gloom, and her darkling eyes were at one with the shadow. She shivered, for the air was chill, and deciding to return as she had come, she turned. She gasped loudly for directly behind her stood a figure blacker than the darkness. She took a hesitant step backwards, but there came a voice from the shadow.

'Why do you stray? You must rest.' It was Arreion.

'I was unable to sleep.' Tinuial replied shakily. 'I am uneasy, though I know not why.'

'As am I.' He said. 'Yet there is no danger near at hand. Come, you need sleep.'

'I wish the new day would never come,' she looked at him sadly. 'I long to be gone, and yet I long to remain. From tomorrow I shall see neither you nor Annariel for as long as I live.' Though she had at first distrusted Arreion, over the days she had grown increasingly fond of him, though he was strange to her. Her eyes glinted with unshed tears.

'Do not despair.' He whispered, though it seemed to Tinuial that he too wept. She thought this odd, for seldom indeed did Arreion reveal his feelings. He placed his hands upon her shoulders, and drew closer until Tinuial could discern the outline of his fair face.

'I am torn in two.' Tinuial wept.

'Fate is brutal,' Arreion uttered bitterly into the darkness. 'For every path might lead astray, and there can be no turning back.. A choice once made cannot be unmade, that you shall learn.' Tinuial frowned.

'Your words are wise, and doubtless there is much truth in them.' She replied hesitantly. 'Yet I deem that more lies behind your speech than you would have me know. Will you not share your thoughts?'

'I meant what I said. Nothing more.' He sounded uncertain, and Tinuial doubted him.

'Tell me what troubles you!' She insisted, raising her voice slightly. 'All is not well, I think, and I vow to keep your secret locked within my heart as long as I live. At sunrise we shall part - and never again will I see you -'

'I cannot say!' He interrupted her sharply. They stood in silence for some time, swathed in the darkness. Tinuial sighed in resignation.

'The secret is yours to keep.' She breathed, 'I meant no offence.' Arreion looked into her deep eyes.

'I curse the dawn that steals you from me.' He leaned forward gently, and kissed her. Time seemed to halt in its tracks, as softly their lips met. Hours they might have stood there, locked in that kiss. Yet still it ended, and Tinuial stood aghast, gazing into the eyes of Arreion. Tinuial tore herself from his grasp. She turned and ran from him, giving him no chance to speak. She sped into the night, and swiftly descended the path in the hills. Arreion did not follow, but stood motionless and numb and watched as the glimmer of her streaming hair faded into the shadow.


	7. The Red Star

Chapter 6 - The Red Star

Arreion cast himself to the ground. He was shivering to the core, though not with the cold. Curses spun through his mind, but he was rendered mute, as though the hollow despair welling up inside him had stolen his very voice. He hated that silence. It was huge; heavy. It left him alone with his troubles, the series of foolish decisions which had brought him to this ruinous pass. How simple life had been once. During the bright days of his youth, Annariel had shimmered like a dazzling star in his arms, and his love for her was new and strong. He closed his grey eyes.

His mind was near overthrown, and the darkness magnified each precious memory of Tinuial before his eyes - each soft word she had spoken to him, each stolen glance of her sweet face, each smile. In secret his love for her had grown, and of late his heart had pounded to the point of bursting at the mere mention of her name. The briefest glimpse of her eyes, the very scent of her, struck a furious longing through his soul. For this was no innocent child's love such as he had felt for Annariel; it was somehow dark, and clandestine, seething through his veins like a secret venom. His heart throbbed with it, hot and heavy within him like a corrupt and burning jewel. It was a tawdry and sullied love, to be sure, yet it seemed to cling to his very bones, tormenting him as his pure and gentle adoration of Annariel had never done. Yet naught was there to be done. He could never forsake Annariel, any more than he could wed a mortal. And now even his love for Annarial, once so pure, grew daily more embittered, mingled with remorse, and his guilt and sorrow had become an inescapable burden. It shamed him beyond endurance that he should so taint these two maidens - these two _sisters_, he thought forlornly - with his cruel and jaded love. He opened his fevered eyes. Gazing into the dark distance, he started as he beheld a faint glimmer on the Eastern horizon. he dragged himself uncertainly to his feet, and peered at the distant glare.

'This is no light of dawn, unless my eyes are deceived!' He said aloud in his surprise. 'More like to flame it appears.' He stood for some time in silent thought, and as he regarded the ominous light, it appeared to creep closer, to brighten as the minutes passed. He knew not what this might mean, yet it did not seem to bode well. With his mind and soul in tatters, he turned from that place and stumbled away in search of his companions.

The heavy darkness lay all about, and a tear rolled silently down Tinuial's cold cheek. She sat huddled in the dell, and her companions lay asleep nearby, save Arreion. He had not yet returned. Tinuial sobbed at the memory of the kiss, for she could think only of the pain she would cause Annariel, were she to discover what had befallen. She surely had no choice but to suppress her own growing feelings for Arreion, to nip them in the bud; for how could she steal the love of Arreion from her sister without shame? In any case, she could never love him as Annariel did, with such true and ceaseless devotion. Yet she longed now for his touch, and for that sweet, forbidden kiss to become more than a bitter memory. Tinuial could not bear to think on it too deeply, to fully probe the magnitude of her feelings towards Arreion. She had no wish to fathom the depths of her agony.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and recognised the firm, steady stride of Arreion. She hurriedly covered herself in a blanket and lay upon the ground, in the hope that he would believe her to be asleep. Yet she was wakeful, and wept still in the mournful silence. Arreion said nothing, and appeared not to move, yet he stood nearby, and Tinuial perceived that he watched her. And so he did, though he was soon distracted. For soon, the distant noise of the approach of galloping horses could clearly be heard.

'Awake!' Cried Arreion to his companions. Annariel and Thaliondil stirred dreamily, and Tinuial pretended to wake. When they all were fully alert, they each heard for themselves the strange sound.

'What are we to do?' Annariel asked, gazing fearfully into the West, from whence the sounds came.

'We must flee!' Thaliondil urged, 'Or hide at the least. Thus far we have travelled in secrecy, and I do not wish to be discovered now. We know not the nature of those who approach.'

'I cannot guess what is afoot in these lands,' Arreion replied, his brow furrowed as he gazed into the shrouded West. 'Yet I have beheld a light in the East that is not dawn. I guess it is a fire. It may be that we are beset with evils.'

'Whoever these Riders may be, swifter than the wings of Eagles they ride!' Annariel exclaimed. She spoke the truth, for the clatter of the hooves was now almost upon them. Arreion listened with interest.

'I believe we should meet with them.' He said, 'They ride from the West, and may be come from our own land. I know, Thaliondil, that you would keep your departure a secret, yet mayhap these folk will have news of the approaching fire, which I would learn more of. The very sight of it made me shiver with dread, though I know not why. Some dark foreboding lies in that flame.'

'Your words do naught to comfort me,' Thaliondil sighed. 'Yet I deem that you are correct. If we were to conceal ourselves then the Riders would swiftly pass us by. I too would hear more of this fire, for I do not like the sound of it. It would seem that they ride to meet it.'

'Where is the fire?' Annariel asked, 'for I can discern nothing.' She surveyed the brooding darkness to the East

'I felt I had no need of rest, and I wandered a short way into the hills,' Arreion answered quickly. ' I stood in a high place, and from that vantage I beheld it. It's source was hidden by the shadows of the hills, and I could discern merely the red glimmer of its presence. Yet it was drawing closer, I think.'

The sound of galloping hooves echoed now amid the hills, and seemed to glance upon each stone and blade of grass. Despite this, Arreion noted that the number of the approaching riders was not great - two, perhaps, or three. Thaliondil unveiled the lantern, and the bright gleam fell upon their intent faces. Arreion turned from the light, and peered into the West. When the swift Riders were almost at hand, he cried out to them in his clear voice.

'Hail, strangers!' He shouted, 'What goes forth?'

Two large shapes halted in the gloom - tall men upon great steeds. One figure dismounted, and strode into the light. He was cloaked and hooded in dark grey, and his shadowed face was barely visible, though the occasional glint of sharp eyes could be seen. He was tall and proud, and held himself like a King.

'Who might you be?' He demanded, his voice none too soft.

'I am a huntsmen of Nargothrond.' Arreion answered courteously, 'My name is Arreion.'

'Well, Arreion of Nargothrond, I would advise you to leave this place as soon as may be, unless you are skilled in battle. A company of Orcs approaches whom it is our task to defeat, and if you value your life, you will flee. Soon enough will the swords of Nargothrond be needed elsewhere.'

'I would gladly fight! Though I wield rather the bow than the sword,' Arreion chided. 'Yet at this time we have other matters to attend to.'

'I doubt it not.' The stranger replied shortly, 'Yet if you can be of no help to us, we must away.' He turned to leave, but Thaliondil strode forward.

'Wait!' He cried, 'I will fight - hopeless as it may seem.' The stranger turned to Thaliondil, and stood looking into the Elf's sharp grey eyes. It was some time before he spoke.

'We are in need of aid - that I cannot hide from you. What is your name?' He asked thoughtfully. 'Your face is strangely familiar to me, though we have not met, I think.'

'I am Thaliondil, son of Durthol.' He replied proudly.

'As I thought!' Cried a voice from the shadow, the remaining rider dismounted and came forward. He drew back his heavy hood, and stood a little behind his tall companion, who was still cloaked in secrecy. As the man strode into the light, Thaliondil looked hard at his uncovered face, and recognised him as the rider with light flaxen hair who had approached their house some days before, calling Durthol to battle. He stared aghast at the stranger, as though unsure of how to react.

'Who are you?' Thaliondil asked at last, his eyes hard and cold in the clear light of the lantern. The two strangers exchanged glances, and the tall man who had first spoken drew his hood from his face, standing before Thaliondil. The stranger's face was proud; stern, though not unfriendly.

'Hail, son of Durthol,' the stranger said slowly. 'I am Carnil. This is my companion, Erdal '

Tinuial almost cried aloud, for this was not her first meeting with Carnil. In the deep shade of the sombre forest she had beheld him first, and in that shadow he had foretold that they would meet once more. She studied him intently now, absorbing every detail of his appearance. She had not noticed before, but he was young, perhaps only a few years older than herself. He wore his proud posture, his stern and stoic manner like a glamour; yet his grim expression, along with many days' worth of grime and weariness, could not utterly conceal the trace of youthful softness to his face. Tinuial had been slightly in awe of him at their first meeting, but now she straightened herself up and looked him in the eye. He was no better than she was; and only a little older. And he was certainly no gentleman.

'Have you any news of my father?' Thaliondil half-whispered. Carnil's face fell; his sudden sorrow was like the slipping of a mask.

'I am sorry,' his voice was low and gentle as he spoke. 'Your father was slain. Yet he fell valiantly, and with much honour.' A sudden cry erupted from Annariel, muffled as she flung herself into Arreion's arms. A spasm of anguish crossed Thaliondil's features, and he turned away from the strangers. Tinuial's eyes brimmed with tears, though she herself was rendered mute with the pain. She had known it, of course. There had been no question in her heart as to whether Durthol had perished. She had known already that he lay dead, somewhere. She wasn't sure precisely why this news should fill her with such dismay, such shock; but it did.

'Needless was his riding to battle,' Thaliondil rasped after a heavy pause, his throat constricted by emotion, 'I hold you not to blame, for his own folly it was which drove him to such a fate. Death was indeed his only desire, in the end. Yet neither do I regard you as friend - nor any who had a hand in my father's death. My grief does not allow it.' He turned to face Carnil squarely. His face was pale and sorrowful, but his eyes were dry, bleak. There was a shadow of defiance in his stance.

'I see your pain,' said Carnil, 'And I do not ask you to fight alongside us.'

'Yet fight I shall,' replied Thaliondil determinedly, 'For my death lies not at the hands of any Orc.' Carnil looked intently at Thaliondil as though measuring his strength, though his gaze strayed once to the face of Tinuial, which was now streaked with silent tears.

'Perhaps it will be so.' He replied steadily, 'In any case, your father would be many times avenged, ere you fell.'

'My brother!' Annariel wailed, clutching furiously at his shaking hand. 'Do not err as our father did! It is madness to fight! We must flee!' Hot tears streamed down her fair face, and her blue eyes glistened fitfully. Carnil met her frenzied gaze, and took a step forward.

'You cannot escape, Lady!' He warned her. 'When Orcs are attacked by a fierce enemy, and the battle goes ill for them, they think more of saving their own skins than of fighting! Though some will give battle, many will turn and flee. In the confusion they will scatter far and wide - you cannot outrun them! This land will not be safe for many days! To fight is as good an option as any.' So stern and was his gaze that Annariel did not argue, but wept anew. Never in her life had she known such fear. She clung tightly to the hand of Arreion, her cries now tinged with hysteria. Tinuial joined Arreion in the comforting of her sister, though her own tears were now falling thicker than ever. Carnil glanced at them with wide eyes, and shook his head.

'Never have I understood womenfolk.' He murmured aside to his companion, 'I would sooner battle an entire army of Orcs, than incur the wrath of a hysterical maiden.' Erdal nodded with quiet empathy. Tinuial frowned. Rude, insensitive man! Had he any notion of their fear and anguish at all? Did he merely think them weak and foolish to weep when he had just informed them of their father's - and very likely their own impending - death? But of course, he was naught but a wandering vagabond. Why had she expected better of him?

Thaliondil strained his eyes fearfully into the East, where he thought he could hear the distant cries of harsh voices, though as yet he could see nothing.

'They are not far.' Erdal murmured in a hushed voice. 'Yet will they reach this place for some hours. Stony hills lie between them and us, and all paths in this land wind about the hollows.'

'We must go forth to meet them.' Thaliondil declared coldly. The news of his father's death had affected him strangely. After his initial emotional response, something appeared to have frozen within him. His fair grey eyes were blank, his features bore no trace of expression. He was like an empty husk of grim purpose.

'Such was our intent. We should follow yonder path ' Carnil asserted, pointing towards the hills. 'We must lure them to the higher ground and set our ambush in some advantageous location.' Thaliondil nodded curtly.

'Annariel and Tinuial should remain in this place of relative safety. Perhaps Arreion should remain to guard them, and slay any Orc that comes near, for my sisters cannot fight.'

'Can they not?' Carnil shot a quick glance at Tinuial, but said no more. She glared back steadily at him.

'I shall protect them.' Arreion affirmed slowly. He seemed deep in thought.

'Urgency is needed,' Carnil explained hurriedly, 'We must depart at once, and travel swift. Thus we will be far from this place ere battle commences. We leave the horses here, or else the Orcs would hear our approach, and be ready for us - our hope lies in secrecy!' He led his grey horse close to where Annariel and Arreion sat huddled together. Thaliondil bade them farewell sombrely, and never had Annariel been so sorrowful as in that hour. She wept bitterly, though she was calmer now, and lucid.

'I am afraid, Thaliondil. A shadow looms before us, and I fear there can be no escape.' Her once merry face was now pinched and pale, weary and desperate beyond endurance.

'Fear not for my safety.' Her brother whispered softly, 'My fate leads me on, and no Orc can defeat me. Though I would cast aside my own life to preserve yours, I must away. I vow, upon your very life, my sister - I shall return!' Tinuial frowned, but did not seek to dissuade him. She knew as well as any how incredibly stubborn her brother could be when he had made up his mind.

As he was about to depart, unmarked by the others, Carnil took the hand of Tinuial and kissed it. She did not resist his touch, slightly to her own shame, but remained silent and cold as he gazed into her face. She met his eye steadily, her expression one of frosty disdain; she was determined not to display any of the weakness he probably expected from her. Nor would she simper and smile like a foolish child. She neither liked nor trusted him, and didn't care if he knew it. A feeble and belated show of chivalry was not going to win her over.

'Farewell.' He murmured softly, and smiled as he turned and strode away, dissolving into the shadows from whence he came.


	8. Wings of Darkness

A/N - Last Temptation; I'm _very _grateful for the ongoing support! Thank you!

Chapter 7 - Wings of Darkness

A bitter wind swiftly rushed upon the air, and a soft, grey rain now spilled gently from the heavens. With a sense of growing dread, Tinuial observed the bleak darkness all about her, thinking of those who had departed. She longed to fight alongside her brother, to be of use rather than a burden, yet she had not the strength for such a battle, and she knew it. In any case, battle may approach soon enough. Annariel bore the lantern, which had been kept unveiled in the hope that any Orc who chanced to flee in their direction would be driven away by the bright radiance.

Arreion stood tall and motionless as a gilded statue, gazing intently into the gloom with his bow at the ready. After what seemed like days of dark, hushed silence, all three companions started as they heard the harsh cries of Orcs breaking out in the distance. They were like the calls of wild beasts, hideous and raw. Tinuial shivered with fear as the clamour grew steadily louder. Some of the cries drew nearer, and ever and anon the dark, monstrous form of an Orc would stray into the glimmer of the light, and each time it lay dead within seconds, its throat pierced by a swift arrow. Arreion was a skilled huntsmen, and showed no mercy to his foes. After some time, the first pallid rays of the creeping dawn came into view, battling against the lingering darkness. Yet the light was slow, for the heavens were shrouded by a gloweing blanket of cloud. No Orc had dared to assail them for some time, which was well, for Arreion's arrows were spent. Annariel was overcome by exhaustion, and sat half-dazed upon the ground, though unable to rest. Arreion breathed a heavy sigh, and turned sadly to Tinuial, the light drained from his eyes. Suddenly, there came a monstrous roar, and two huge, fierce Orcs leaped from the darkness, and attacked Arreion furously, their red eyes savage with rage. Enduring the light of the lantern seemed only to increase their wrath. Arreion was dragged to the ground, but unsheathing a long white knife which hung from his belt, he stabbed one creature in the eye. The Orc fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Arreion began to fight the other with his bare fists, dodging the stabs of its sword with an athlete's skill.

'Flee!' He cried to Tinuial and Annariel. Without a word, Tinuial grabbed the quaking arm of her sister and pulled her hurriedly from the fray. Arreion fought tirelessly, at last seizing the blade of his foe and striking him down, for he had misplaced his own knife in the darkness. Unnoticed at first by Arreion, the Orc whom he had first wounded rose silently from the ground, and loped off in swift pursuit of the two maidens. For some time Tinuial and Annariel tore swiftly away, stumbling over the rocky ground with all the speed they could contrive, until finally, breathless and weary, they halted.

'I can flee no more!' Annariel cried desperately. She turned, and screamed. The Orc leaped forward, and grinning drove its bitter sword deep into her belly. Tinuial stood striken by horror, as Annariel fell softly to the ground, like an Autumn leaf cascading in golden beauty from the dying branches of a tall tree. Yet before the Orc could strike once more, Arreion came crashing into the light bearing aloft the heavy sword of his vanquished foe. After one fell stroke, the remaining Orc lay slain, his grotesque head cloven asunder. Tinuial paid no heed to this last battle, and with a cry of horror she fell to her knees beside Annariel and clasped her cold hand. Annariel's blue dancing eyes glimmered with tears in the unearthly light.

'Farewell.' She whispered between laboured breaths.

'You cannot leave!' Tinuial wailed desperately. 'Fear not my sister, you can be healed.'

'Nay, it is over,' Annariel murmured softly. 'My light fails.' Arreion stood unmoved as though turned to stone, gazing into the shimmering face of Annariel. At length, he too knelt beside her.

'This is my doing,' he wept. 'Would that I had been of more use.' Annariel looked into his eyes.

'Do not blame yourself, my beloved,' she whispered slowly, the light of her eyes gently fading. 'Were it not for you, I would have perished long before this day. Keep my love beside you always. I shall await you, until this world ends.' Annariel closed her eyes. Her face became cold and wan, and she spoke never more. The sky wept with rain as death spread its dark wings about Annariel the fair.

Tinuial wept bitterly, her head bowed. Darkness enveloped her heart, and her eyes beheld nothing in that hour save the faded sunlight as it fell upon the pale face of her sister. Even at the dismayed voice of Thaliondil, as he at last returned with Carnil and Erdal and discovered what had befallen, she did not stir. She felt as though she was being dragged down into a pit of inescapable darkness, and the hollow shreds of daylight became weak and distant far above her as she fell into the consuming shadow. Then, amid her grief, she felt a gentle hand upon her arm. The touch was soft, pleading, and yet forceful enough to drag her back from the gloom. Of a sudden, the darkness fell away, and she beheld the world about her once more, grey and miserable as it was. Her grief remained, like a heavy stone in her chest, yet she was alive once more, and alert. She raised her head and gazed into the face of Carnil. His face was grim and worn, as one who has endured many days of ceaseless toil, though his eyes were kind.

'Are you hurt, Lady?' He asked with concern. She no longer had the strength to mislike him, or indeed to feel anything beyond her grief for Annariel.

'No,' she whispered. 'Save in heart.' Carnil paused, as though unsure of how to reply.

'We must bury her,' Thaliondil muttered solemnly. His face was ashen and stained with tears, but resolute. Blood poured from a wound upon his shoulder though he ignored it entirely.

Carnil looked once into the eyes of Tinuial, and turned then to Thaliondil. In the time that followed, Carnil and Thaliondil buried the body of Annariel and raised a mound above her. Erdal and Carnil then began the task of heaping the bodies of the Orcs who lay nearby, though the heavy rain did not allow them to set fire to the pile. Thaliondil remained on his knees beside the resting place of his sister, and Tinuial sat beside him in sielnce.

'Whither has Arreion gone?' She asked at last, for the first time noticing his absence.

'I know not,' replied her brother distantly. 'Some time ago he departed into yonder hills, desiring to be alone.' He beckoned absently in the direction of the high hills, almost due Northward.

'I shall seek him,' she declared, dragging herself uncertainly to her feet. Thaliondil remained unmoved, seeming barely to hear her. He seemed somehow incorporeal, now, as though hollow and faded with sadness, staring at his sister's grave with raw and haunted eyes. It occured to Tinuial, with a pang of poignant sorrow, that her brother might never recover from this trial. He had always been solemn, even in the days of their happiness - in fact, casting her mind back as far as she could, it did not seem that there had ever been a time when Thaliondil had known joy. Their mother, and indeed Annariel, had always been baffled by his sombre manner. She had often despairingly declared that in temperament he was his father's son indeed, though if anything he showed signs of surpassing him in belligerence. He usually met sorrow with anger, it seemed. Yet never before had Tinuial seen him so crushed, so defeated by grief.

With a last thoughtful glance at her brother, Tinuial turned and ascended the path into the hills. Cold rain lashed her face as she climbed. At last, she beheld the distant figure of Arreion. His golden hair was tousled by the sharp winds, yet he was still and silent as though frozen. Tinuial ran to him, and placed her pale hand upon his shoulder. He turned slowly to face her, glinting raindrops coursing down his face and mingling with his tears. The light of his eyes was faded, and his face was haggard and grey. For some time he contemplated the face of Tinuial, and at last he spoke.

'Darkness is come,' He murmured faintly. 'Never shall I be rid of this remorse. May Annariel forgive me.'

'She would forgive you of anything,' Tinuial assured him.

'Yet I am not worthy of her forgiveness,' he replied bitterly, 'Neither am I worthy of her love, which in my folly I cast aside!' His eyes were deep and mournful.

'There is no sense in torturing yourself!' Tinuial cried. 'For she is gone! Neither sorrow nor contrition can restore her to us!'

'That I know only too well,' He said, 'And for this anguish that now dwells within my heart there is no cure, unless -' He faltered, and turned his face from Tinuial.

'Tell me your mind.' She said gently

'Against my will was my love given to you,' he quietly replied. 'Yet it is no passing thing. When first I set my eyes upon you, my heart was yours, and so it remains.' He clutched her hand, but Tinuial backed away.

'This is not wise!' She cried, her dark eyes full of desolation.

'Truly,' he said. 'Yet I love you still.'

'I am mortal!' She declared with some force. 'You are of the Firstborn. Such a love is not permitted!'

'Thus I have counselled myself!' He said exasperatedly.

'And what of Annariel?' She demanded, 'Did you not love her?'

'My love for her was true,' He replied sorrowfully. 'For many years. How could I not adore one so fair and gentle as Annariel? Her smile would outshine the rising sun, and yet I perceive that my love for you shines out the brighter. I cannot allow my heart to be torn between that which was, and that which is!'

'I cannot betray the memory of my sister!' Tinuial insisted wearily.

'Annariel would wish us every happiness.' He took a step towards her.

Annariel loved you!' Tinuial's voice was suddenly raised almost to a scream. 'I do not! And never shall.'

'Do you not?' He whispered, his grave eyes desperately pleading with her.

Tinuial could not answer, and she took a hurried step backwards. Her wet hair fell dripping about her face, though the rain had now abated, and her shadowed eyes were filled with anguish as she looked upon Arreion for the last time. She turned to hide her tears, and sped away, her mind in turmoil.

Of the fate of Arreion no tale tells, and whether he faded and died from the world, consumed by sorrow, or found hope and strength to endure amid his grief is not known.

When Tinuial returned to her companions, she found Thaliondil resting near the mound of Annariel, at last overcome by his weariness. Erdal also lay upon the ground, deep in slumber. Carnil sat in silence, gazing into the misted heavens which were now brightened by a faint gleam of sunlight. When Tinuial approached and knelt softly upon the sodden ground beside him, he spoke to her gently,

'My companion and I depart tomorrow at sunrise.'

'Where do you go?' She asked forlornly.

'Whither the wind leads us,' he answered with a faint smile. Tinuial nodded, unable to control the tears that sprang from her dark eyes. Carnil drew a deep breath.

'If you wish, my Lady, you may accompany us,' he suggested uncertainly. 'Your brother also, for he would prove a worthy companion.'

'Indeed, I would accompany you,' she replied shyly, unable to stop herself. 'Though I must first speak with my brother.' Carnil's eyes sparkled as with a green flame, and his face appeared for a moment less worn.

'Behold!' He exclaimed, gazing into the sky. For the sun could now clearly be seen, though it seemed distant and loath to shine. 'The light may at times lie hid, yet it lives still.' He gently clasped her hand in his. She made no effort to resist his touch.


	9. A Crimson Night

A/N - Yes; I get a strange sadistic kick out of creating annoying characters and promptly killing them. I am most wrong.

Chapter 8 - A Crimson Night

Seven days had passed since Tinuial had looked the last upon Arreion, yet the memory of the final glance of his clear, sorrowful eyes still lingered with her like a soft shadow on the edge of vision. Never again would she behold those sharp eyes, keen as lances and grey as the depths of the tempestuous ocean. When the immediate anguish and disbelief caused by the death of Annariel had faded, Tinuial was left only with a deep guilt which would dwell in her heart always, alongside the wraithlike memories of Arreion. She cursed the ill chances that had brought her to this pass, and wished that she had never become entangled with the fates of the Firstborn. Only grief had she brought to Elves who had fostered her, and the doom of Annariel been wrought by her own foolhardiness, though none could have forseen it. And never in all her life would she forget the stolen kiss of Arreion. She almost wept as she plodded onwards into the East with her three companions. Dark plains sprawled out before them, and they were leaving the hills behind, though Tinuial knew not their precise location.

They had now crossed the borders of Nargothrond, and the wiild lands beyond her sight seemed to call to her with a distant yet compelling voice, now that she had passed forever out of the knowledge of the folk of the great realm, her home. When they halted for the night, Tinuial sat cold and silent, watching Thaliondil and Erdal as they spoke sombrely. Thaliondil, though still stricken with grief, was greatly relieved to be gone from Nargothrond, and seemed to draw strength from the presence of Erdal and Tinuial. His mood had lifted a little - and perhaps as a result of Annariel's death, he began to treat Tinuial with more gentleness than he ever had before. He had also become well acquainted with Erdal, and would at times speak pleasantly with the Elf, even amiably. His attitude towards Carnil, however, remained somewhat wintry and remote. Tinuial spared little thought for this. It was not the first time her brother had taken an instant and undeserving dislike to someone for no good reason. Carnil appeared untroubled by it in any case, and as there was no open animosity between them, and Thaliondil's behaviour was not objectionable at least, Tinuial decided to let the matter rest. Carnil himself seemed was thoroughly strange to Tinuial. For though he was courteous, and pleasant towards his companions, he would speak only when spoken to, and his face more often wore a grimace than a smile. He had revealed nothing of his origins or his lineage, though neither Tinuial or Thaliondil had questioned him of such things, and if Erdal knew aught of him, he kept it secret.

The crimson sun sank low, yet it was the sole light, for the companions had chosen not to light a fire, and they kept the lantern veiled. Time drew reluctantly on, and within minutes, Erdal and Thaliondil lay at rest. The blazing crimson sunset sent forth molten rays like the dying embers of the sun's fire, which fell upon the grim face of Carnil making him seem bathed in blood. Of late his gaze had strayed most often upon the face of Tinuial, though never again had he clasped her hand as he had done on the day of Arreion's departure. Tinuial had made nothing of this, and indeed had barely heeded him until now, and chiefly spent her time in silent thought, and alone when possible. Memories of her sister - and, to her shame, Arreion - had occupied much of her thought. Yet now the notion dawned on her that perhaps she had offended Carnil. She looked into his sharp eyes, and he gazed back solemnly. Tinuial hurriedly looked away, dragged herself to her feet and strolled away from her companions, past the slumbering form of her brother. She moved slowly, almost glided into the red light, as though entranced by its violent beauty as it stained the blazing sky like frozen flame.

'Can you not sleep?' A hushed voice came from behind her. It was Carnil. Tinuial started, for she had heard no rumour of his approach, and had not expected him to follow her. Though she realised with a start that she had hoped he would.

'I am restless,' she murmured into the night. 'How can I slumber, when the heavens are thus wakeful?' Carnil did not reply, but stood now silently beside Tinuial, his eyes clouded by deep thought.

'Are you well?' Tinuial whispered at last. Carnil frowned, though once more he did not reply. Tinuial continued uncertainly, 'I fear that I have offended you, though I know not how.' Carnil drew a deep breath, replying with a discernable edge of bitterness.

'Other matters there may be, besides yourself, Lady, which may cause me grief.' Tinuial took the meaning of his words at once, and she had heard the acidic tinge in his voice. Without pausing to consider her own words, she replied dryly:

'How foolish of me to suggest that I may be of slightest importance to you. If you'll excuse me.' She strode off briskly, caring not whither she went. But Carnil, after a moments hesiattion, leapt after her.

'Twist not my words!' He growled, following her whilst she strode as swiftly as was possible upon the rough ground. 'You have done naught to offend me! Though I say to you that there are some matters in which I will be second to none!'

'Speak plainer,' Tinuial said sternly. 'And, _sir_, if you have any sense at all, you will not raise your voice to me!' Still she hurtled with great speed across the rough uneven, almost breaking into a run, and Carnil placed his hand firmly upon her shoulder to restrain her.

'I shall speak as I see fit!' He cried. 'And you would have me explain myself? Then I shall. I care for you indeed, and well you know it!' Tinuial turned slowly and looked into his face. He had far more to say, as was clear from his face, though he only sighed and gazed into the deathly sunset. The fading light reflected upon the cold surface of his eyes as Tinuial spoke now far more softly.

'Then I ask you again what I have done to anger you - for it is plain that I have.'

'I fear that you love another.' The wrath had now faded from his voice, yet still he glared icily at Tinuial.

'I know not of whom you speak.' She claimed doubtfully, though she clearly spoke falsehood, and her words fooled neither of them. Even as she spoke the ghost of Arreion seemed to hover between them

'You lie! For you know well,' he raged. 'It is Arreion you love! The Elf of Nargothrond who is gone.' Overcome by a sudden crippling stab of grief, which turned swiftly to anger, with her shivering hand Tinuial smote Carnil hard across his face with more force than would have seemed possible of a hand so small and delicate. How _dare _he speak of Arreion! He knew nothing of the pain evoked by that memory. In his shock Carnil took a step backwards, though still he clasped her cold arm, dragging Tinuial closer to him with a sudden jolt. The smouldering fire of her eyes was dimmed as she replied at last.

'Arreion was betrothed to Annariel, who is also gone,' she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek and glistening like a bead of glass as it fell.

'Clearly did I percieve his love for you.' Carnil said bitterly, 'Though I deemed that you did not return it. Yet now I see that it is not so! Your thoughts have been elsewhere of late. Indeed, you have been sorrowful, yet you have shed more tears for his sake than for your sister's! Do not deny this, Lady, for I see your mind.'

'My thoughts are mine alone!' She shouted, tearing herself from his grasp. 'If you accuse me of caring for Arreion, then I am guilty, for he was my worthy companion. I did love him indeed, as one may love a friend, or a brother! He led us through many perils, and I believe that I owe him my life. That I am sorrowful at his departure, and that I fear for his safety I do not deny. But I do not love him as Annariel loved him.' As she uttered the words, she knew them at last to be the truth. She had never been truly in love with Arreion; but she missed him still. She felt as though he had died along with her sister, and her father. The grief was still fresh, still raw; how could Carnil not understand that? There was hardly space in her heart or mind for anything but the sorrow of losing so many loved ones. Tinuial turned to leave, but Carnil seized her arm once more.

'Lady, give me token that you speak the truth.' He pulled her close to him, and she felt his hot breath upon her cheek.

'Is my word not enough?' She met his gaze, her dark eyes smouldering. 'Are you truly so selfish - so inept that you cannot understand my pain, at losing my beloved sister, father and friend all at once?' Carnil flinched, and looked away.

'Yes, perhaps I am, at that,' he muttered. 'I understand little enough of women.'

'Such stupidity!' Tinuial half-screamed at him. 'Do you think that grief is the province of women alone? That a man can know nothing of it?'

'No, Lady. And if you knew more of me, you would not speak thus!' Carnil growled, becoming angry in turn. 'I am merely unused to maidens who wail and whimper at the sight of blood, and who turn every misfortune into a drama!'

Tinuial stared at him in horror. She could have screamed, could have raged at him; but she felt suddenly so drained.

'I am weary,' she said coldly. 'I return now to the camping place.'

'I ask you to remain. For I can see that you are _not _weary, and I would talk with you for yet a while.' He mumbled softly, perhaps regretting his former words. Tinuial, however, was in no mood to be swayed, and she tried once more to break free from him.

'I go whither I will!' She snapped, surprising him with her sudden vehemence. 'Unhand me!'

'As you wish!' He cried, clearly aggrivated, pushing her from him sharply. She stumbled, and almost fell to the ground, though swiftly she regained her balance and stood glaring at Carnil, who merely stared back wide-eyed. Never had she appeared so beautiful to him as in this moment, with her straight pale hair now tangled and straying in the breeze, and her dark eyes angry and vivid, though half-obscured by the darkening night.

At that moment, Thaliondil appeared from the lengthening shadows and he strode towards them in great haste.

'What goes forth?' He snapped breathlessly, eyeing Carnil dubiously.

'Naught, my brother.' Tinuial assured him with a weak smile, and Carnil lowered his eyes. Involving an irate Thaliondil in their argument was hardly going to improve matters.

'Do not defend this ruffian, if he has done you harm!' Thaliondil's eyes glinted as he gazed once more at Carnil, who clenched his fist at these words, his eyes burning, though he remained silent.

'I am not hurt,' Tinuial said lightly. 'Myself and Carnil were having a slight disagreement, yet it is of no great importance. You are mistaken.' Thaliondil looked narrowly at his sister, then turned to the tall, dark figure of Carnil. The sharp suspicion did not leave Thaliondil's eyes, and it was plain that he gave his sister's words little credance. Carnil glared back at the Elf, his eyes kindled. He was full of fury, still, from his encounter with Tinuial, and was enraged still further by Thaliondil's insult, though he said nothing. Behind his rage he felt dimly that he had indeed acted inappropriately towards Tinuial. Thus he endured Thaliondil's mistrust with more patience than he would usually have displayed in such a situation, and followed her intensely with his eyes as she took her brother's arm and allowed herself to be guided swiftly back to the camping place.


	10. The Beautiful Disease

A/N - Snogging in the offing? But of course!

Chapter 9 - A Beautiful Disease

After hours of wandering the unbroken darkness, Carnil returned to the camping place of his companions, guided by the light of the faint white stars which peered through tears in the thick blanket of cloud which now veiled the heavens. For some time he was wakeful, sitting beside the sleeping form of Tinuial, and trying to discern the outline of her pale face in the starlight. He sighed, and at last lay heavily upon the ground, cursing himself profusely. Why could he not openly declare his love for Tinuial, beg her forgiveness for any hurt that he had caused her, or attempt to capture in words how fair she appeared to him? Though capable of courteous speech when he chose to use it, Carnil was not accustomed to such trials as these, for never before had his heart been so entirely lost to another. Tinuial was unlike any maiden he had previously encountered, though admittedly, he had encountered but few. He understood her pain well enough; he had suffered enough hardship in his life. It was simply that he did not know how to show that understanding. He had never been called upon to comfort another, or listen to their troubles - his male companions had never been so demanding. Open displays of emotion made him nervous and embarrassed. Carnil was bold and valiant, and for years had lived a life of solitude. He had braved countless enemies and had won many hopeless battles, driven by anger and sorrow. Many times had he gazed into the eyes of death, and had shown courage where others would wither with fear, for a man who holds naught dear in life does not falter at the thought of death. Yet he now perceived that his heart was changed, and was barren and cold no longer, and he would preserve his life if only to look once more upon the face of Tinuial.

Now a great cloud of sorrow was upon him, for he feared that Tinuial would not return his love. He shuddered as he thought of how grim and unlovely he must appear to one so beautiful and refined as Tinuial. Yet he could not alter himself, for he desired more than anything to be loved for his own sake. And even were Tinuial to turn her heart towards him, Carnil now realised that Thaliondil would not approve of their love, deeming him unworthy of his sister.

'I _am_ unworthy of such a fair jewel.' Carnil murmured sleepily, though none were awake to hear him. 'Yet I cannot forsake this love, which I have but lately discovered, for in losing it I would perish. There can be no return, for the past is hateful to me, and now that I have looked upon the glory of light, never again could I dwell in the darkness .' He drifted finally into a deep black slumber.

Tinuial stirred and yawned sleepily, opening her shadowy eyes. The gentle dawn opened like a pale flower in the sky, and the Autumn sun, glimmering like a bright banner newly unfurled had begun slowly to rise. The heavens were clear and cold, untouched by the merest trace of haze or cloud. Tinuial sat upright with a jolt. Her companions still lay in oblivious rest, and her gaze strayed to the sleeping form of Carnil. She recalled to memory the events of the previous night, of her words with him, and what they might mean. For some time after returning to the camp she had lain awake, listening for the sounds of his approach, and yet when she had finally strayed into an uneasy slumber still he had not returned. She was surprised by her own relief as she beheld him lying there, still and peaceful. He looked pale and tired, his dark hair falling softly across his brow, yet now more than ever, as the bright rays of dawn fell upon his sleeping face, he looked suddenly so young to Tinuial, so fair and vulnerable as he slept. All hostility she had previously felt towards him faded, almost against her will, and melted away like a thin frost banished by the warmth of morning. She sighed, and dragged herself to her feet.

On the North-Western horizon stood the dusky eaves of a forest, which looked deeply ominous to Tinuial as she strained her eyes towards it. A small copse of trees stood nearby, and a chill wind rattled the dry golden leaves which clung lightly to the slender branches. Some leaves fell softly to the earth, coiling and snaking as they cascaded, as though dancing upon the breeze one final time ere they withered and were lost. Though she wasn't sure why, the sweet melancholia of the descending leaves stirred a deep memory in the heart of Tinuial. She recalled to mind the earliest days of her abiding in the realm of Nargothrond, when Tarien, the mother of her heart, had abode with them still, and Durthol had been content. All things, in those days, would fill young Tinuial with wonder and delight, and the snatches of memory now returned to her like scattered mirror shards. The clear voice of the little river as it busily ran its twisting course, with the sparkle of noon playing upon its surface. She recalled the tales Tarien had told her by the fireside, as dusk drew on and the darkness outside deepened, and how she had gazed into the flames entranced, watching them leap and writhe. Tarien would tell her of great battles of the past, of the brave deeds of the Eldar against the dark, merciless Enemy, and of the events of Ancient days beyond the reach of memory ere the sun or moon walked the ways of heaven. Tinuial would ever behold these tales as though she were gazing into the depths of a rippling pool, and seeing at the bottom the unfolding of a great history. It was remote and somehow intangible, yet sweet and elusive as glimpses of the forbidden Isles of the West. Music was all about her, for Annariel sang in her clear, sweet voice, as she braided her young sister's hair, and the gentle laughter of Tarien poured like light through the empty halls of the house.

'Tinuial?'

There came a questioning voice beside her. With a gasp, her memories fell away even as the Autumn leaves. Tinuial was aware of herself once more, and her surroundings. She found herself staring into the concerned face of Carnil. She stood now near to the copse of trees, and to her shame she felt cold tears upon her cheek. She dashed the tears aside, unwilling for Carnil to see her weep, though she knew that he had noticed. Tinuial said nothing, but stood motionless, staring blankly into the distance. Her memories had seemed so real.

'I fear that I have angered you.' Carnil murmured. Tinuial looked at him with some surprise, realising that he had mistaken her silence for vexation.

'Fear not.' She replied quietly, her voice shaking, 'You have done naught to displease me.' This was hardly true, for she had indeed felt truly fruious towards him only hours before, yet now, strangely, it had vanished without a trace.

'What then is the matter?' He mumbled. 'Some ill assails you I think, for you were weeping, were you not?' Tinuial frowned, fearing lest the tears should once more start in her eyes.

'I was,' she replied stiffly. 'For my life has been torn apart. It seems that only now am I beginning to realise how much has been lost.' Sadly she bowed her head, her pale hair curling in the sharp breeze. 'Thaliondil alone remains of the family of which I was once part.'

'My Lady,' began Carnil uncertainly, pausing between words as though he feared to offend her. 'If I may ask...how comes it that your kin are of the Eldar, and yet you yourself are not?'

'The kin of my heart they shall ever be,' Tinuial replied in a strangled whisper. 'I know no other family, for in my infancy I strayed into the realm of Nargothrond, where I was discovered by my foster-father, Durthol. As for the kin of my blood, naught can I tell or recall. Whether they are lost, slain or taken, or even-' She faltered for an instant, yet soon resumed to explain in a rush of words, 'Or whether I was merely abandoned, I know not. Yet I recall that I escaped from peril, and I fled from..._No_! I cannot remember.' Her hands trembled with cold and grief, and she fought silently to prevent herself from bursting into tears. Carnil placed his hands awkwardly upon her shivering shoulders, a look of deep concern filling his bright green eyes. Tinuial found herself unwilling to look into his eyes, and her gaze remained fixed upon the ground.

'You shall find joy,' he murmured softly. 'I promise you.'

'I thank you for your kind words,' replied Tinuial. 'I must hope that you speak truly, for there can be no return to Nargothrond.'

'Verily, there cannot!' He exclaimed with some force, seeming relieved to change the subject. 'For my heart warns me that soon enough there may be no Nargothrond to which you may return. It cannot withstand the gathering storm of darkness, and may indeed prove short-lived.' Tinuial's beautiful eyes opened wide, searing his very soul as they filled with tears. His words had only dismayed her further.

'Do not speak of such things,' she pleaded, though she herself had long forseen the Doom of Nargothrond, and perceived the bitter truth of his words.

Without another word, he drew her close to him, and kissed her. Tinuial's heart was kindled as with the fire of dawn, and in that moment she saw clearly the magnitude of her love for him. It was wholly unlike her feelings for Arreion, for that had been a dark and forlorn love, doomed to fail from the onset. All love which she still felt for him was mingled with the inescapable burden of grief and remorse, yet at this moment it did not pain her. She gazed at Carnil in wonder, as though looking upon him for the first time, and she smiled. It was strange, this feeling. She had felt faint shadows of it before, when she had looked upon him, but never like this. It erupted from the pit of her stomach, and threaded itself irresistably through her blood and bone and soul. In many ways it was like a nausea - just as dizzying, as alien - but far sweeter. She felt overpowered, almost ill with elation, yet if this was some malady it was the sweetest she had ever known. A beautiful disease.

'Tell me, I beg, that my eyes are deceived!' Came a sharp voice. It tore Tinuial's gaze from Carnil, and she turned to behold Thaliondil stood some way behind her. His grey eyes were cold and gaunt, as he gazed angrily at Carnil, and then at Tinuial. 'This cannot be.' He said, his voice soft and perilous.

''My brother,' Tinuial began calmly. 'It is none of your concern...'

'We depart,' he interrupted, raising his voice. 'You shall never look upon this man again.' Tinuial cried out in horror, and Carnil clasped her hand.

'That I cannot allow!' Carnil demanded, 'You mistrust me, son of Durthol, that I know! I blame you not, for were I set in your place I too would deem a man such as myself unfit for Tinuial. Yet I swear to you that your sister is more dear to me than you know.' Thaliondil was unmoved.

'That is as it may be.' he replied, 'I doubt not that you are a worthy man, after the manner of your own kind, yet Tinuial is above you - this you must surely see! She herself will understand in time.'

'Does my happiness mean aught to you?' Tinuial shouted with an abruptness which started both Carnil and her brother. As Thaliondil looked upon her, his fury seemed to lessen, yet he was stern of face.

'It means more to me than all the world. Yet I believe that this man will cause you naught but grief.'

'I care not! And this choice is mine to make!' She cried desperately, and Thaliondil's sorrow was now plain to see.

'You know not what you say, Tinuial! Yet whether you will or nill, you shall obey me.' Thaliondil turned and strode back to the camp, and Tinuial turned to Carnil with anguish in her eyes.

'What are we to do?' She whispered.

'Tinuial!' Demanded Thaliondil, 'We shall linger here no longer! And you-' He glared at Carnil, 'Trouble us no more, and go whither your doom leads you. I would not have Tinuial share in your fate.' He said these last words in such a way, that Tinuial was for a moment puzzled, wondering if more lay behind them than he would have her know. Did he know or guess aught of Carnil that she did not?

'Do not despair.' Carnil murmured to her, unnoticed by Thaliondil. 'Leave now, and I will find you - if you wish it.' She nodded hurriedly, turning sadly from him, the sunbeams of morning caught amid her rippling hair as she returned to her brother. She regarded Thaliondil icily, and made ready to leave. Within minutes all was prepared, and Tinuial stood as though stricken, gazing at Carnil. She saw nothing but him, and the world beyond him seemed to fade and darken. She barely heard her brother speak as he bade farewell to Erdal, who had chosen to remain with Carnil.

'Come, Tinuial.' Thaliondil said with a sigh. She heard him as though from a great distance. Thaliondil took her arm, and led her firmly away, travelling almost due East. Tinuial did not struggle. She believed - _had _to believe - that Carnil would keep to his word and pursue her. She held the thought close to her heart; and it was all that sustained her. Otherwise no amount of coercion on her brother's part could have forced her from Carnil's side. There was time enough, she supposed, for Thaliondil to calm himself and swallow his pride. Then she and Carnil would have to persuade him that their love was true, and that Carnil was not the ruffian Thaliondil appeared to take him for. She glanced quickly at her obstinate brother, and a flare of rage shot through her veins. How dare he go against her wishes in such a manner! For a moment she actually felt as though she hated him, that he would quite happily jeopardise her only real chance of happiness merely due to a petty grudge on his part. Still, she knew him well. He was stubborn as an ox, acting all too frequently on impulse and rarely giving thought to whether his deeds were wise until after he had committed them. When he calmed, he was bound to realise that he had acted unfairly, though Tinuial knew he would not readily admit it, and might continue to oppose her will merely for the sake of his pride. Nonetheless, she vowed grimly, she would not allow him to win _this _war.


	11. The Birth of Nightmare

A/N - yeah, that _would _be a good idea, the Thaliondil thing...but so wrong somehow!

Chapter 10 - the Birth of Nightmare

And so she departed. The sun, now high in the sky cast its fierce rays upon the face of Carnil, yet all light seemed to him but futile mockery, for his light was gone. Tinuial and Thaliondil were now reduced to two tiny shrinking figures in the distance, and eventually disappeared into the dust of the horizon. Carnil stirred at last. He felt the unfamiliar urge to weep, yet he did not, for he had forgotten how.

'Whither do you now go, my friend?' Erdal questioned him softly.

'I follow Tinuial,' He replied quietly, not meeting his friend's eye. 'I do not ask you to remain with me. Yet I gave her my word that I would do so.' Erdal looked dismayed, yet he was resigned to Carnil's decision, as though he had guessed already what thoughts dwelt in the mind of his friend.

'You shall need company, I think.' Erdal said with a weak smile. Carnil looked at him with clear gratitude in his eyes, and would have smiled were he able.

'You remain loyal, Erdal, my friend,' he replied. 'Though I think you do not approve of my decision.'

'It goes against my wisdom,' the Elf remarked lightly. 'Though love ever is set apart from wisdom!'

'Truly,' Carnil mumbled. 'Yet I value your opinion, friend. I would have you tell me why you deem my choice unwise.'

'How much have you told Tinuial of your past?' Erdal asked uncertainly.

'Naught, for she has never asked of it.' Carnil replied shortly.

'Soon or late she will discover the truth. If she is to become yours, then she will fall under your doom. Perhaps it is best that she leaves, best for all concerned! Thaliondil will care for her, and she may yet find happiness, far from the shadows. She is a fair maid, and true. Can you risk her fate becoming entangled in yours?' Carnil looked upon his friend, bitterness sparkling in his eyes.

'Already I am bound to her!' He shouted, his anger erupting with a suddenness that surprised them both, though his wrath was not aimed at Erdal. 'And were I a man of any worth or virtue I would set her free - free from this darkness which has been set upon me! Yet I cannot allow her to think that I have forsaken her.'

'You have made your choice,' Erdal spoke solemnly. 'You will follow your heart, and I will follow your lead.'

'Then we must depart!' Carnil declared, his wrath still simmering faintly. 'And when I find Tinuial, I shall tell her all. For I cannot withhold the truth from her, and when I see her next, she shall learn it in its entirety.' He gazed into the East, whither Tinuial and her brother had gone. And without another word they began to journey, carefully following the trail of Thaliondil and Tinuial. As they journeyed on, Carnil's thoughts were far from him, and with each step he cursed the evil doom that from childhood had darkened his days, which had caused himself and his lost kin such endless hardship and sorrow; and more than any other, he cursed the name of He who was responsible, Morlach of the Black Flame.

A warm, hazy Autumn afternoon cloaked all the land in its golden ambience, and the light of the yellow sun was soft and bright. It was with growing fury that Tinuial trudged her way across the increasingly rocky ground, for Thaliondil led her now South. Still he tightly clutched her arm, which still shook with a simmering, white-hot anger. She walked now slowly, and for some time Thaliondil had been practically hauling her across the stony earth. Bare hills rose before them, and when she looked behind her Tinuial could no longer see the deep, imposing forests she had beheld at dawn. Thaliondil suddenly halted, and looked at his sister. Her expressionless face was pale and pinched, her eyes staring out blankly like wells of haunted shadow.

'You are weary,' Thaliondil remarked gently. 'We shall halt here awhile.' Yet he was restless, breathing heavily and pacing back and forth, occasionally straining his eyes into the horizon as though from fear of pursuit.

'What is this place?' Tinuial asked sullenly as she stumbled to the ground and sat upon a protruding mound of grey rock.

'We are now crossing Andram, the Long Wall. Nargothrond lies to the West, and to the immediate North the forest of Region, and the Enchanted Realm of King Thingol.' Tinuial had seldom studied maps, and his explanation clarified little in her mind, yet the fact that Thaliondil at least had some notion of where they were was a relief. She bowed her head, contemplating the hard ground.

'Whither do we go?' She questioned coldly, without looking at her brother.

'I have not yet decided.' He replied, gazing down at her. His eyes were sorrowful, and his anger now had faded without a trace. 'We go South - as far from the Shadow as may be. We may there find a land whch seems fair to us.'

'No land shall appear fair to me.' She replied quietly, her eyes stinging with hot tears.

'Tinuial, do not weep, I beg you.'

'Do you wonder that I am grieved?' She cried. 'It is your doing!'

'You do not understand,' he answered calmly. 'I wish only to protect you, and I promised father no less. I failed Annariel, and were you to be joined with this man, I would have failed you also!' Tinuial looked up at him in surprise. She had not considered before that Thaliondil might have held himself responsible for Annariel's death. Her heart softened slightly towards him, yet her slow-burning anger would not abate. Now that she had had time to fully examine her situation, she was required to consider the possibility that Carnil might indeed not pursue her. The thought was intolerable, yet she could not escape her doubt. She realised how mad and foolish she had been to lose her heart so entirely to a man she barely knew. She did not know if he was trustworthy, or if he truly cared for her - even if her own feelings were genuine. How could she know, after such a short time? Nonetheless, their relationship might flourish, if only it were given the chance. If Thaliondil had robbed them of that chance for his own stubborn reasons, she would never forgive him.

'Why do you hate him so?' She cried, her eyes alive and glistening as with a deep flame.

'Had I hated him, I would have slain him for laying hands upon you!' He replied harshly.

'I doubt it not,' she chided. 'You care more for your wishes to be obeyed than you do for my welfare. You deem that I am naught but a foolish child, who knows not her own heart!'

'In one thing you are correct!' Thaliondil growled, 'In that you do not fully understand your own heart! It is little more than a week since first you met this man! And how much, may I ask, do you know of him? Of his past, his lineage, his intentions? He is below you, my sister.' Tinuial was silent for a moment. She could not explain to Thaliondil, in terms he would accept or even understand, how her heart soared with acute bliss each time the memory of Carnil rose up before her, and how truly insignificant minor details concerning his heritage were. She and Thaliondil were practically outlaws themselves now, and could hardly make the slightest claim to grandeur.

'What does it matter?' Tinuial argued at last. 'You say he is below me. In that matter, I, and no other, shall be the judge!'

'Nay, Tinuial! You shall abide by my judgement! I beg you to understand that I would not separate you from Carnil, were it not for your own benefit. You surely cannot believe that I would wish you harm? I am your brother!'

'You are no brother of mine!' She screamed. 'And have no right to claim me! I have no kin, and I shall do as I will!' Thaliondil made no reply, but stared at Tinuial aghast. Never had he thought to hear her utter such words as these. Tinuial could not look at Thaliondil, fearing lest he would be filled with wrath, and she cast her face downwards. The instant the words had escaped her lips, she regretted them, yet she would not beg his pardon, not after what he had done.

'If those are indeed your feelings towards me,' he said at length, his fists clenched and his eyes misted. 'And to you I am no more than an aquaintance, then perhaps I was wrong to attempt to keep you from the path you wish to tread.' He cast himself upon the ground, and sat motionless, like a grim statue formed of cold stone. He gazed into the heavens, his grey eyes gleaming, and Tinuial saw that almost he wept. She could bear it no longer.

'I did not mean those words!' She murmured mournfully. 'I do not deny that you have caused me sorrow. Yet you _are _my kin - all that remains of it.' Thaliondil nodded silently.

'I know, my sister.' He said.

The weather was mild and still, and remained so for the next few days.Though as time wore on, the air grew colder, and the sun became pale and wraithlike. Tinuial saw no trace of Carnil, and she spoke of him, though he was never far from her thoughts. With each passing day her situation seemed to her more hopeless, and the likelihood of his following her diminished, until she was quite certain that he had forsaken her. Perhaps, then, Thaliondil had been correct, and Carnil _was _unworthy of her. Yet at the thought of never seeing him again made her sick and cold to the stomach.

They had almost crossed the rocky hills, and Tinuial was cold and silent as a mild day drained into a deep, sombre evening. They had halted for the night, and Tinuial lay upon the ground sheathed in a thick blanket. She soon drifted into a heavy slumber, haunted by dark dreams.

Suddenly, Tinuial found herself standing in the midst of a vast stone chamber, swathed in the heavy shades of night. She had no notion of where she was, and she shivered with fear of she knew not what. For though her eyes beheld no other living creature, she could not escape the sensation that she was not alone. A pale, unearthly light slowly grew from an unseen source, yet the blackness remained in patches, and shadows seemed to hang upon the very air like velvet webs. The room echoed with the sound of Tinuial's feverish breathing, and terror smote her as her surroundings became clearer still.

She did not recognise this place, and gasped as she beheld it. A high, dark ceiling glowered down upon the marble floor. Ornate carvings and statues lined the walls, and the spectral light shimmered upon the carven form of a writhing serpent, which wrapped itself about the stone figure of a man. The man's face was contorted in perpetual agony, and his unseeing eyes gazed heavenward. Tinuial noticed another carving with a shudder; it depicted a slain horse lying sprawled upon the impenetrable ground, with a spear thrust through its abdomen. Who would make such carvings as these? And for what purpouse? She almost wept, as she cast her eyes all about the chamber and beheld only the anguished faces of slain or tortured men and beasts. With a jolt of horror, she realised that this room contained neither window or door. She was trapped. The new light began to diminish, and the statues cowered darkly upon the edge of her sight. As Tinuial scrutinised the cold floor for any means of escape, she caught sight of her own hand, and gave a strangled cry. For the first time she realised that she herself was the source of the light, and her hands glowed white as misted moonlight as she held them out in front of her.

This was a dream, it had to be. Or else she was overcome by madness. She gazed in wonder at her raiment, for she was clad in a gown of glimmering white silk, with sleeves long and billowing, white as morning frost. Her pale skirts were embellished with silver gems which sparkled like the dust of icy stars, and around her neck there hung a tiny jewel of glistening argent upon a fragile chain. Raising her shaking hand to her head, she could feel that her long, straight hair had been carefully braided. In the light that now emanated softly from her face and hands, her fair locks glittered like the untouched ice of midwinter. Of a sudden, Tinuial heard a noise from behind her, as of a soft footfall, though when she turned she could see only the shifting shadows. Several times she heard the noise, and ever it came from behind. Then she discerned, unmistakably, a noise like the sharp intake of breath to her left, and she turned to face it, shivering uncontrollably. The air seemed to become warm and acrid, and she felt a rush of wind, like scalding breath upon her face. And then she felt it. A long, spider-like hand seized her arm with terrifying suddenness. It's touch was hot and searing as though the hand was formed entirely of flaming coal, and she was burned. Tinuial opened her mouth to scream, but could make no sound - as though her voice had been stolen by that dreadful touch. Yet in an instant it was gone, her vision faded and darkness fell. Out of the shadows a voice whispered her name. She knew that voice.

'Carnil?' She murmured, in barely audible voice. The chamber had disappeared. She lay upon the rocky ground once more, and the cold air of night stung her face. She could hear the soft breathing of Thaliondil as he rested nearby, and in the dim starlight she saw the face of Carnil as he knelt beside her. She sat up, and flung her quaking arms about him, weeping silently.


	12. The Heir of Annundur

A/N - Last Temptation...thanks again for the feedback! And here are two new chapters...oh the joy. (plus, once this story's finished there's a sequel in the works. I'm getting a little carried away here)

Chapter 11 - The Heir of Annundur

'It was no dream!' Tinuial cried shrilly, clutching Carnil's arm with her shaking hands.

'Hush!' He said firmly. 'You might alert your delightful brother.' They now walked together in the hills, and Tinuial was weary, stumbling constantly upon the rough terrain, yet they did not dare stop until they were a safe distance from Thaliondil. At last they halted, and Tinuial calmed slightly.

'I was so afraid,' she murmured, and Carnil held her close to him.

'It is over now,' he said. 'It is gone! Let it trouble you no more.'

'Nay, for it was no dream!' She repeated, 'The touch upon my arm was real. It was hot, so very hot! I was burned, and yet it chilled me to the bone...' She trailed off miserably.

'Does any trace of the hurt linger?' He asked. 'Is there any mark?' Tinuial pushed up her sleeve hurriedly, but as far as she could tell in the pale light, her arm was unchanged.

'Nay, it hurts no longer,' she admitted sullenly. 'Yet I beg you not to doubt me!'

'I do not, yet what would you have me do?' He said, with discernable irritation. 'If it was no nightmare, then it must have been either vision or fantasy. It cannot have truly taken place!'

'A vision, perhaps,' mused Tinuial, paying little heed to him. 'Yet nothing of the sort have I experienced before. It was of some great import, I simply know it.'

'We have other matters of import to consider.' Carnil said with a glimmer of his eyes, 'I regret that I have not until now visited you, yet tracking you was no simple task! He is no fool, Thaliondil; he led you in such a way that your path wound in and coiled in all directions amid the hills.'

'So I guessed.' Tinuial replied, her voice tainted by bitterness. Yet even her anger at her brother now faded, for Carnil had proven his love, and Thaliondil could hardly keep them apart by force.

'It is not so hopeless,' she said at last, the thin light of the crescent moon falling softly upon her face. 'I cannot forsake Thaliondil, for it would destroy him. We shall simply have to persuade him to accept you! It will be difficult, for he is stubborn and proud as was his father before him! Yet he will see in time that you mean me no ill; we need only be patient!' She looked up into Carnil's face, yet he made no sign, and his eyes seemed clouded and dull.

'The time has come,' he whispered. 'I can keep the truth from you no longer. Deeply do I regret not having told you of this ere now.' He paused, as though unwilling to continue.

'Tell me what you have to say!' Tinuial cried, panic surging within her voice. 'However terrible your news is, I would have you tell me!'

'A doom lies upon me, darker than the shadows which now cloak the world.' He said, 'A curse which fell upon me ere even I was born, which has shaped and governed my life and followed me upon my every path.'

'I do not understand!'

'Nay, and yet you would learn to understand, were you to become entangled in my fate.'

'What doom is it that lies upon you?' Tinuial pleaded frantically, 'Who has cursed you, and why?'

'He whom the Eldar name Morlach,' he replied bitterly. Tinuial felt a cold chill rush up her spine, though she knew not why. She remained silent as Carnil continued, his voice weak and sad.

'He is known as the Sorcerer of the Black Flame - in alleigence with the Dark Lord. Yet Morlach serves none but himself, as far as I have ever heard. In the shadowy heart of the forest of Taur-im-Duinath lies his subterranean dwelling, and he has never in recent years been knoen to emerge from his own darkness. Yet all about the land of his abode he sets his unseen snares of bewitchment, to catch the innocent or unwary. He will then draw them into his hidden lair where he devours them, flesh and spirit. None have ever escaped from his grasp, for none had the strength of will to fight his magic, or the wisdom to escape his dark webs of bewilderment. None, but one. Annundur his name was, among the greatest of mortal Men who have walked the Earth, though his tale is known only to a few. Of the House of Beor he was in his beginning, yet when he was come of Age he chose to forsake the lands of his birth, and his own people, desiring only the freedom to explore the untamed lands of Middle-Earth. His kin, and a small number of the folk of Beor rode in his following, for they were of a like mind.

Long they wandered in the wild, making no lasting abode for themselves. They were swift and secret, eluding and ambushing the servents of Morgoth as they saw fit, wary as beasts. Yet as age began to fall upon them, a great number of the folk grew weary of their harsh life. They longed for the comfort of home once more, which they had known only in their childhood. Now many had children of their own, and wished only for a place free from peril, where they would dwell in peace. And so, against the wishes of Annundur they forsook the wilderness and settled at last. Annundur's wife, Tantiliel had died the previous year of a sudden fever, yet she had borne him a son ere her passing. The boy was named Nuromen, fierce and determined as his father, though very like to his mother he was in appearance, with eyes fair and grey, and hair black as night.

The people of Annundur at last settled in the land of Arvernien in the South, building homes amid the birches of Nimbrethil, though Annundur himself would ride far afield, and increasingly often his son would ride alongside him, for he grew strong and dauntless. Yet upon a time when Annundur chanced to journey alone, he strayed into the forests of Taur-im-Duinath, having no notion of his peril, and was ensnared by the dark enchantment which lay in wait amid the twisted trees. It came to pass that he was taken before Morlach. Yet terror did not fall upon Annundur at the hideous sight of his face, and in pride and folly he challenged Morlach to a duel. Naught would he ever tell of his battle with the Dark Scorcerer, save that he himself escaped with his life, at last sorely wounding his enemy, and believing him dead. Yet it was not so. For it has since been told that Morlach is of the Maiar, and indeed one of the mightiest of his order. The weapons of mortals cannot rend the spirits of the Ainur from this world, though if the hand that wields them is mighty enough, then it may chance that the great spirit shall be for a time diminished. And so it was. The servants of Morlach allowed Annundur to leave Taur-im-Duinath unhindered, and fled when he came near them. For within his eyes they percieved a fire which burned like the glare of the sun upon Winter's ice. Never had any radiance of the heavens brightened that dark place, and seeing it they were afraid, and did not dare assail him.

'When Annundur returned to the dwelling place of his people, he seemed a mere wraith of his former self. He was grey and bowed - aged with care and wounded to the death. It was a wonder that he lived, for his journey home had been long and perilous, and the wounds Morlach had given him did not heal, but grew steadily worse as his strength slowly failed. Upon the very night of his return to Nimbrethil, he died. Yet with his last strength he recounted his dark tale, looking upon the face of his son for the final time. Nuromen was grieved, and gladly would he have sought to avenge the death of Annundur, yet believing Morlach to be slain he remained in Arvernien, dwelling in quiet peace with his kin, and journeying never far afield. The Elves knew not of their abiding in this place, and had they discovered them sooner they may have warned Nuromen of his peril. At last the sorrow of Nuromen at his father's passing was driven from his mind, for some years after his coming of Age, his love was gven to a maiden named Lorawen. She was fair, so the tales say, and was unlike in appearance to any other. Her hair was bright and golden as the glory of dawn, and her eyes were green as sparkling emerald. She was not strong, but slender and fair as the stems of birches, and when she danced her feet were light as falling leaves upon the soft ground. Nuromen wedded Lorawen, and the following year she bore him a daughter more beautiful than Spring itself, golden-haired as her mother and fair as an Elf-child. The girl was named Alphiel.

'Yet her beauty was but a passing thing, and when Alphiel was but three years of age she was slain, along with many others. For though the thralls of Morlach had not lain hands upon Annundur as he made his homeward journey, some had pursued him, and espied the dwelling place of his kin. They had given word to their dark master, telling him of Nimbrethil, and all they could discover of the folk who dwelt there. They reported also that Annundur had met his death, yet his son lived still. As Morlach grew once more in strength his wrath seethed within him, for he knew that though he weilded still a deadly terror, he would never fully regain his powers, such as they had been of Old. And he vowed then to destroy the son of Annundur, all his kin that yet lived, and all the folk of Nimbrethil. Therefore, he gathered himself an army, great and terrible, of wolves, demons and miserable thralls, and though he went there not himself, he bent all his thought towards the abode of Nuromen.

And so the people of Annundur were caught at unawares, for the force of the army of Morlach fell upon them at dusk, bringing darkness and terror, burning the homesteads and stables, and killing both man and beast who dared to cross their path. All were slain, save a few who fled and escaped persuit. Nuromen alone of those who remained to fight was neither slain or harmed, yet he was taken. It is guessed that he was brought to Taur-im-Duinath, and nevermore would he walk in the woods of Nimbrethil. Yet his wife, Lorawen, weeping bitterly at the murder of her daughter, and the loss of her husband, escaped and fled with the last remnant of the folk of Annundur. The small company took to the wild for a time, and leaving the birchwoods they journeyed West, to the Cape of Balar. There they built dwellings of wood upon the shore, in the land where the earth and the ocean meet. Each window they made in their fair houses faced Westward, so enamoured did they become of the sight of the endless Sea, stretching into oblivion. Lorawen would sit upon the shore and dream of those who had departed, making songs of lamentation as fair as the music of the grey water. Gladly would she have cast herself into the shimmering depths of the Sea, to rest beneath the moaning waves, though her beauty and loveliness was greater than any pearl ever to adorn the ocean floor. Yet she could not, for once again she was with child, and was now almost due to give birth.

'The last child of Lorawen was born only weeks after her arrival in Balar. The child was a boy, and he and Lorawen were tended by an elderly nurse, Nominwen, who was a lady of great strength and kindness, though she was unmarried and had no children of her own. Lorawen died shortly after giving birth, ere even she named her son.'

Tinuial listened to this tale with growing sorrow, and dark silence now fell upon them. The rain had begun to fall, and flowed from the sky like a soft river of grief. Tinuial shivered, and as Carnil said no more she spoke hesitantly into the shadow.

'This is a strange, sad tale,' she murmured softly. 'Yet I think you have more to say. For you have not explained what the plight of this folk has to do with you, though I already guess.'

'I am the son of Nuromen, and the bane of Lorawen,' he said faintly, feeling glad that the rain hid his tears. 'And I am the only living heir of Annundur.' Tinuial knew not how to reply, and she wrapped her arms about him and buried her face in his shoulder. At last she looked up at him, and saw his green eyes glitter in the moonlight.

'Do not fear,' she said shakily, 'I shall not forsake you on account of this tale!'

'And yet you shall know no safety while you are with me!' He cried miserably, 'If aught were to harm you, then never could I forgive myself!'

'Yet why should anything happen?' She asked in surprise, 'For surely Morlach is not aware that you walk upon earth!' Carnil sighed with grief, and pushed his black hair from his eyes with a hand that shook visibly.

'For long years he was unaware of me, I believe. Yet within my heart I knew always that he would find me. When I grew old enough to perceive the peril, I left the fair place of my birth, knowing that I was only a danger to those whom I loved. Never again have I looked upon my kin, and my childhood friends. I did not even bid farewell to Nominwen, who cared for me through my early years, for she would have done all in her power to prevent me from departing. May she forgive me! She it was who named me. For on the night of my birth, and my mothers death, the sky was clear and fair, and the stars shone out coldly like points of ice against the void. I was named after the red star of Varda. Yet Nominwen hoped that I would be free of danger and darkness, and it cannot be so. I can linger in no place long. The presence of Morlach darkens my dreams. He has sent his hunters after me before now, though always I have managed to elude them. As we draw closer to his realm I feel his power growing. I cannot remain here, and neither can you! I fear that he has seen you.' He looked gravely at Tinuial, and she gasped.

'My dream!' She cried. 'You believe that it was him?'

'I do not know.' He replied quietly.

The rain grew heavier, and fell in sheets of soft grey, turned all to shimmering glass by the light of unveiled moon. Lightning flickered upon the horizon, and the rumble of distant thunder rolled on ominously. The storm approached.


	13. Amon Ereb

Chapter 12 - Amon Ereb

Tinuial trembled with cold as she and Carnil returned to where Thaliondil lay in slumber. They had resolved to tell him of all that had befallen, and attempt to prove to him that their love was indeed true. Yet they were hesitant to tell him of the doom of Carnil, as it may not bode well for them. Thaliondil certainly would not think better of Carnil were he to discover the truth of him, yet as Tinuial pondered the situation, she wondered with a start if her brother knew or guessed aught of Carnil already. It would certainly account for his pervious behaviour. She frowned. Her pale, rain-lashed face became solemn as she fell into deep thought. Erdal had now joined them, and strode a little behind Carnil, looking about him warily as though he feared that danger was close. The clouds above glowered down upon the sodden earth and smote the rocky hills with myriad tiny spears of dark rain. The air was thick and misted, and little could they see in the gloom, and yet at last they found their way back to Thaliondil. Yet he did not slumber, but sat upon the ground in silent thought. He looked up as they approached, grimacing and silent. He had unveiled the lantern, and its sharp light fell across his sullen face, and made his clear grey eyes glint and flicker like cold stars. His hair clung in dark strands to the sides of his face. He glanced at Carnil with unmitigated dislike, and noted cooly that he clasped the hand of Tinuial.

'You have returned,' he said, glaring at Carnil, and his voice sounded chill as ice. 'I did not wish it.'

'We have no chioce but to put our differences aside, for a time!' Carnil said hurriedly, ignoring the frosty manner with which Thaliondil addressed him. 'I fear that this place is unsafe. We must flee, and swiftly!' Thaliondil drew himself to his feet, a look of disdain upon his face.

'I shall do as I see fit,' he replied waspishly. 'And no orders do I take from you.'

'This is no order!' Carnil chided indignantly. 'Yet I swear to you that danger approaches this land. You cannot remain! And you certainly must not keep on as you are now going! Upon my life, I cannot allow Tinuial to travel South!'

'No claim do you have over my sister!' Thaliondil exclaimed scornfully.

'No more than you, I deem.' Carnil muttered darkly, and Thaliondil's eyes narrowed as he glared into the grim face of Carnil.

'Do you not value your lives?' Tinuial shouted against the roar of the wind, 'I beg you to put an end to this foolishness, for much is at stake! If we are in such peril, then we would do better to flee from it than to remain here caught in endless debate!' She turned to Thaliondil. 'My brother, do you not feel the dark power that draws close? I think that you do! Only you would sooner march to your death than take advice from one from whom you hate. Though why you despise Carnil so, I do not know.'

'Were it not for him, no danger would there be!' Thaliondil cried harshly. 'Is that not so, son of Nuromen?' Carnil looked away hurriedly, his eyes flashing either with anger of grief.

'Then it is as I thought,' Tinuial murmured in disbelief. 'All this time you knew of the origins of Carnil, and yet you said naught to me!'

'She now knows all.' Carnil articulated clearly, his face hard and stern as he looked none too kindly at Thaliondil.

'No longer shall I obey you, my brother,' Tinuial exclaimed with all the force she could muster. 'And in this matter I cannot abide by your judgement. Carnil and I shall not be parted.'

'I desire only to see you safe.' Thaliondil said softly, now sounding almost forlorn. There was a long, heavy silence, ruffled only by the gathering wind.

'We must hasten!' Carnil shouted, yet Thaliondil simply stared up into the seething billows of cloud which enveloped the sky like the incoming tide. His face was strangely weary and taut, and his grey eyes glimmered fitfully in the glare of the lantern.

'Then we shall go.' Thaliondil said, lowering his face.

Some hours had passed, and such was the ferocity of the ongoing storm that though the sun had begun to rise, the world still seemed buried deep in night. Tinuial clutched the arm of Carnil as she crossed the sodden ground, and fought against the ragged wind which caused her drenched hair to flutter wildly about her face. The four companions had spoken no words to one another since they had begun to journey, for there seemed to Tinuial that there was too much to say. Her mind was infested with such a terrible confusion that she did not know quite how to begin, and feelings of love, devotion, fury, hatred and grief were all mingled within her heart, and welled up inside her as she recalled the past events. Now more than ever she needed rest, and time to sort the chaos within her mind. Though exhaustion lay heavily upon her and made every halting second seem occupied by years of torment, rest was an unattainable luxury, for they were in great need of haste. She could only thank the hidden stars above that Carnil had not forsaken her, and so she did with every trembling step. Her gaze strayed to Thaliondil, who walked before her and Carnil. Through the mist of rain he seemed blurred, yet his mechanical strides were no less severe and uncompromising as he stalked ever onwards. Something in the fierceness with which he moved seemed to draw them on behind him, and not once did he falter upon the uneven ground, or slow his pace. Neither did he look back at his companions, and Tinuial perceieved that she had angered him. At first she puzzled silently over the fact that Thaliondil had known the truth of Carnil ere she had herself. Strange this seemed to her, and the only feasible explanation was that Erdal had told him something; for surely he had known. Tinuial cast one mistrustful glance at Erdal, who walked a little to the left of Thaliondil, and wondered why he could not have kept the information to himself at least for a time, as it would have saved much anguish.

'We must stop!' She cried at length through the downpour, with a suddenness which startled her companions. She did not wish to be a burden, and yet she felt that she could not take another step.

'I see that you are weary,' Carnil said hurriedly. 'Yet we cannot remain here!'

'Weary, you say?' Exclaimed Thaliondil, as he turned back and beheld his sister, 'By the look of her, she is near dead!' It was true, for she was pale as a wraith, and could barely keep her eyes open. She shook visibly, and her touch was colder than ice.

'Evil approaches,' Carnil muttered, gazing into the West, from whence they had come. 'I feel it as its strength grows.' All the land was now steeped in grey, teeming rain, and the falling deluge clung to the air like an infinite curtain of cold, raging water. Very little could be discerned, yet the growing sense of menace appeared to float upon the air, and seep from the very earth.

'From the South-West it comes.' Erdal said solemnly, voicing the words that dwelt within all their hearts. 'Where lies the forest of Taur-im-Duinath!' _The abode of Morlach._ Tinuial mouthed silently.

'We cannot outrun those who approach.' Erdal continued slowly.

'Then we must fight.' Thaliondil cried, his eyes burning.

'We cannot hope to win such a battle!' Carnil cried miserably. 'I alone of you can have any notion of how fierce the assault may be. And our company is small - four alone shall avail nothing. We would be overcome within minutes.' He drew his hand over his eyes to shield them from the clattering rain.

'Then we must hide.' Erdal said abruptly, 'I know this land! If we keep on as we are going, we shall come shortly to Amon Ereb, and there we may lie hid!'

'My friend, what madness is this? Have you lost all sense of reason?' Carnil demanded in shock, 'They will be drawn to us! Already they follow our trail, I guess.'

'What choice have we?' Erdal cried, his flaxen hair hanging limp about his face, and casting droplets of cold water into his weary eyes. He turned, and strode into the East, where the pale dawn glowed dully with a soft, milky light. Yet the fearsome black clouds still groaned with surging rain, and the storm showed no signs of ceasing. Once more Thaliondil and Erdal began to stride Eastwards, as though their decision had been made, and was final. Tinuial staggered on, and she eyed Erdal suspiciously. It seemed to her that he led them into greater danger. She gazed at Carnil.

'I do not wish to hide.' She murmured, 'For surely we will be discovered! And escape will be near impossible!' Carnil turned to her, his green eyes haggard and sorrowful.

'If we act as Erdal counsels, then I guess it will result in the death of this company.' He answered darkly. Tinuial stared at him, her dark eyes wide with dismay.

'I pray that you are mistaken,' She whispered softly.

Tinuial beheld the next few days through a murky haze of exhaustion and rain, darkened by a sense of dread which ever pursued them. They had left the rocky hills behind, and the Ramdal had faded into the Western distance. The hill of Amon Ereb loomed like a cloud of darkness before them, and as they drew closer, it soared ever higher into the dim sky. Though the companions allowed themselves very little rest, ever the dark power seemed to draw closer, threatening to overtake them, although no sign of peril could be seen.

'Whither do we go?' Tinuial asked blankly, pushing her damp hair from her eyes.

'We are climbing the first slopes of Amon Ereb.' Carnil replied, 'For Erdal said he knows of a place where we may take cover, and hide from unfriendly eyes. He says it is not much further.'

All was not well with Tinuial, and it seemed that she was assalied by fever. It became progressively worse as the days passed her by. She would shiver with cold, and yet her face burned and was hot to the touch. The world slowly faded before her eyes, until she beheld the face of Carnil through a dark, swirling mist of confusion. She now stumbled upon the gentle slopes which became gradually more steep and sheer, clutching Carnil's arm as though it were her last hope. The air was chill and frosty, and for a time the soft, drenching rain was replaced by merciless hail, which scattered itself fitfully upon the sodden earth. Day faded. The sharp hailstones glimmered reluctantly in the dying twilight, as they sliced the air like the jagged shards of an infinite broken mirror.

'We have reached the place!' Came Erdal's voice from the shadows before Tinuial.

She forced her eyes open. The world was bluured, and pieces of ice cascaded from the dark heavens, driven in swirling paths through the air by the vicious wind until they finally smote the tortured earth with a muffled crash. Before them lay a slope, like a slanted, diagonal sheet of rock upon the hillside. Near the base of the flat slope was a small opening.

'It is as I remember it.' Erdal said with discernible relief, 'Beyond that opening lies a cavern. We may fit inside, and there be concealed from unfriendly eyes.' He climbed carefully into the cavern.

'We shall be discovered,' Carnil muttered softly, gazing uncertainly at the Western horizon. To his horror, his gaze was abruptly met by the dull flicker of distant flame. He shivered. 'They know we have come this way!'

'They cannot have yet seen us.' Thaliondil replied, his grey eyes full of doubt. 'You say that swords cannot avail us. If so, then to evade them is the only choice left to us.' He turned, and made his way to the cavern.

Tinuial spoke no word as she was half-dragged through the opening and into the heavy darkness beyond. She lay upon the hard, rocky ground for some time, breathing feverishly. She drifted gently in and out of consciousness, her mind troubled by imaginings of darkness. The hail clattered on, and the low groan of thunder lingered upon the edge of hearing. She opened her eyes, and saw in the glimmer of the flickering lightning, the grey weary face of Carnil, who knelt beside her in silence.

'I think I shall die,' she said slowly, her voice veined with weakness.

'You will get well!' he whispered, his eyes gazing mournfully at her ghostly white face. She lay there so delicate and slender, like a broken statue of cold, white marble.

'Do not leave me.' she murmured, without knowing why. Her eyes closed, and she fell into an uneasy slumber.

'I shall remain by your side,' he kissed her brow softly, and clutched desperately at her quaking hand. 'I promise.'

Tinuial saw no more that night, save the blank mist of fever which had descended upon her, yet the voices of those she knew welled up ever and anon inside her mind, though they seemed distant and confused:

_They approach, they approach! _

Panic surged beneath the words; they sounded urgent, yet she did not stir.

_You have led us into a trap!_

Though she herself remained still, the darkness seemed to spiral about her, and engulf her like the vast, hideous wings of vultures. She heard cries, terrible cries. Shouts echoed through the halls of her misted mind, but she could discern no more than the occasional snatch of words, the odd shard of meaning, before it was torn from her mind's grasp.

_I cannot allow it! Why would you do this deed? _

She was being swallowed by shadow, and there could be no escape...

_May I be forgiven..._

The sound of weeping tore through the darkness, and anguish floated upon the air. Yet it was remote; it did not touch her.

_I cannot allow it...I cannot!_

The voices still echoed through her dreams, more distant now. The harsh cries rose to a violent, hideous crescendo, and a clear voice spoke out against them, familiar, and yet not so. The cries faded, and died, yet the weeping remained. The last words rang out through the gloom.

_May I be forgiven..._

Tinuial strayed into the darkness, and heard no more.


	14. Erdal's Departure

A/N - Last Temptation - thanks again! And I only have so much "motivation" to write this fic because I'm meant to be doing about a hundred other things right now! Like my dissertation. But when the fic chicken bites you…

Chapter 13 - Erdal's Departure

It was cold. The uneasy, prickling sensation of sharp, keen air upon her face was the first thing Tinuial felt. What had befallen her? She knew not. Her eyes were closed, and she did not wish to open them lest she should discover that the darkness of her dreams had seeped into the world beyond. She lay still upon a flat rock surface, covered by a heavy blanket which thick though it was did not suffice to shield her entirely from the frosty air. A great silence was upon the world, looming behind the darkness like a yawning chasm of emptiness. She at last opened her eyes. She was still in the small, dark cavern of Amon Ereb. Only vaguely did she recall this place. She sat up, and blinked as she beheld the soft, yellow light of day streaming in through the opening in the rock. I was many days since she had beheld such light, and it seemed to her a thing new and wonderful. She smiled faintly. It was then that she noticed Carnil. He leaned against the wall of the cave, cloaked in darkness. He did not appear to see her, and he seemed deep in silent contemplation, his sharp green eyes staring out blankly like windows of desolation. His face was grim, and smudged with dirt. There was no sign of Thaliondil or Erdal.

'Carnil?' She whispered, her voice weak and cracked. He looked up abruptly.

'Tinuial!' He cried, rising to his feet and moving close to her. 'You cannot guess how relieved I am to hear you speak!' He knelt beside her.

'Where is Thaliondil?' she asked hazily. 'And Erdal?' A shadow fell across the face of Carnil.

'Your brother will soon return,' he said quietly. 'He has gone in search of food, for our supplies are running low.'

'Where is Erdal?' She asked.

'He is gone. Do not ask of him.' Carnil looked away, but Tinuial would not be dissuaded.

'I fear that evil has befallen,' she said softly, but sternly. 'How long have I been asleep? What became of the creatures of Morlach? Whither has Erdal gone?'

'Almost we were discovered,' he muttered. 'And so we would have been.' He shuddered, and bowed his head as though in shame.

'Tell me what has happened!' Tinuial demanded urgently.

'There was no escape,' He resumed after a pause. 'For our trail would lead to this place, and it was only a matter of time ere we were discovered. As we lay in wait, listening to the cries of the host of Morlach draw closer, I perceived that there was only one course of action to take. For they came only to claim me. In the rain and hail, I thought that perhaps our tracks had been confused, and they may not have perceived that I travelled in the company of others. The thought dawned upon me that if I were to give myself up, and allow them to lead me to Morlach, then my companions would remain undiscovered. So it would have been, had I possessed the courage.

'Erdal knew also that we would be discovered in this place, which I perceived when we arrived here. At first, in my folly, I mistrusted him. Yet I was wrong, for never was there a truer friend. He also knew that the thralls of Morlach would only depart once they had in their possession the heir or Annundur. Yet they are fools, with little wit or understanding, as may clearly be seen. My plan was to leave this place ere they drew close, to go forth to meet them and feign to flee, and so draw them away from my companions. Yet when the time came, I could not leave you. I was torn in two, and I remain so. Erdal went in my stead. He left even before I perceived what had befallen. Yet I heard him through the storm, and his voice rose above the tumult clearer than ever before. I heard his words. He claimed to be the heir of Annundur.'

Tinuial's face dropped, and she gazed at Carnil in shock.

'Yet he is of the Eldar,' She murmured. 'How did they not perceive this?'

'They are blind,' he said. 'For years uncounted they have dwelt in the darkness of Taur-im-Duinath, and guided by the malice of Morlach they have no need of sight. Almost my heart fails me, when I think of how Erdal will fare in that darkness. I cannot leave him to this fate, and yet were I to follow him it would accomplish naught. They would not release him, and death would come upon both of us, though we should meet it side by side.' His eyes glimmered with tears, and he turned his face from hers.

'You must not follow him!' Tinuial cried in terror. 'I beg you not to abandon me!'

'And yet you would have me abandon Erdal?' He asked. Tinuial's eyes burned with tears, yet she gazed at him steadily.

'I am sure he did not mean for you to follow him. He did this deed of his own accord, and it is clear that his purpose was to sacrifice himself that you might be spared. Would you rob his sacrifice of all worth?' She insisted, 'I too grieve for him, truly, yet there is naught you can do! You can merely bring about your own death, which would destroy me also!'

'Can you not see, Tinuial, that my choice is made?' Carnil said wearily. 'The fever has been upon you for longer than you realise perhaps! Erdal is three days gone, and it is now too late to pursue him. I have chosen to remain with you.' He looked at her sadly.

'I hope you do not hold me to blame?' She asked quietly.

'How can the blame be laid upon any but myself?' He exclaimed angrily. 'I sat by and watched as my greatest friend was taken to his death!'

'Your vision is clouded by grief,' Tinuial murmured softly. 'It is true that you could have died alongside him, yet what would that have availed?'

'Nothing,' he replied shortly. 'Though it would have been the only honourable choice. I am unworthy of such loyalty.'

'You were loyal to me!' She exclaimed in desperation, 'You vowed to stay by my side!'

'Do not mistake cowardice for virtue!' He chided bitterly. Tinuial could not think how to reply, for there was no reasoning with Carnil when such a mood was upon him.

'His death is not in vain,' She half-whispered, as though she feared to anger him. 'For when Erdal is no more, will Morlach not believe that it is you who are slain?'

'Nay, he is not cursed with the same foolishness as his miserable slaves! Erdal will be slain, of course. Yet it will merely increase the wrath of Morlach. He will not take Erdal to be me, for he has seen me.'

'He has beheld me, also,' Tinuial sighed nervously. 'Though only in my dreams.'

'Thus he watches over his enemies,' Carnil replied darkly. 'He can see you, but never shall you behold him.'

Tinuial could not control the wave of horror that washed over her, and glistening tears sprang from her eyes like pearls in the soft light. There was a lengthy pause, yet soon enough Carnil had calmed, and he held Tinuial in his arms as she wept.

'Do not fear,' He said gently. 'Forgive my harsh words. I am sorrowful indeed at the passing of Erdal, yet I do not regret my choice to remain with you. Though in truth we must soon depart, for this place is not safe. When Morlach discerns the truth of Erdal his fury will be great, and we must be far from this place when he learns of this betrayal.'

'In any case, I wish to remain here no longer,' she replied. 'I am well enough to travel. When Thaliondil returns, we depart. I care not whither.'

The afternoon sun glowed pale yellow, and filled the clear sky with its soft, watery light. The land about was fair. It comprised mainly of sprawling plains dotted with clumps of woodland, though much was now flooded, and vast pools of water caught the thin sunlight and glimmered gently. The three companions slowly descended the slopes of Amon Ereb, gazing at the strange land. In the days of her early youth, Tinuial had never thought to behold such places as this, though deep within her heart she had always secretly desired to. Her life in Nargothrond could never be more than a wraithlike shadow of memory, and for better or worse, she could not return. This thought she held in her mind for some time, for it seemed somehow significant. Yet as she emerged from the mists of the past, though haunted by a grief from which her heart would never escape, she could not feel sorrowful, or weep for that which was gone beyond recall. She could merely feel the keen wind that stirred all the lands with its wild touch.

'Let us journey north,' Carnil said, raising his voice against the sharp wind. 'For when Morlach discovers what has befallen, I hope to be as far from Taur-im-Duinath as time may allow.' Tinuial and Thaliondil said naught in reply, yet in unison they both headed off Northwards, whence came the raging wind.

Grey night had fallen. The harsh wind had lessened, and all was still. Tinuial sat beside her companions in a dusky woodland region, and the deep twilight fell upon the dark silhouettes of the bare trees. The new moon hung suspended in the heavens like a leering silver scythe amid the raven void. Carnil lay upon the brink of slumber, yet Thaliondil was wakeful, and sat motionless upon the hard ground with his back against a hollow tree. Tinuial glanced at her brother. The cold, white radiance of the stars reflected upon the surface of his stony grey eyes, and he gazed sorrowfully up at the naked branches of the dead tree. Thaliondil had spoken few words of late, and Tinuial could not guess was within his heart, yet she perceived that he was troubled. She seemed to behold him now as from a great distance. With a heavy sigh Tinuial lay upon the ground, and made ready to sleep. Yet ere she fell into slumber, she was disturbed by a faint sound. Footsteps. The noise drew closer, and as it echoed amid the shadowy trees it became unmistakable. The footfalls were soft, feather-light in themselves but magnified by the silence - it did not sound to Tinuial like the heavy tread of an Orc. She sat up, and shot a hurried glance at her brother. He also had heard the sound. He strode over to Tinuial, clearly making a conscious effort to tread as softly as he was able, though it came not easily for he was wont to stamp his feet as he walked. As he drew close to Tinuial, his eyes sparkled with tears, and she saw that he had been weeping, though she knew better than to comment upon it.

'Await me here,' he whispered stealthily. 'I go forth to meet this creature. Do not move!'

He turned, melting slowly into the gloom. Tinuial strained her eyes into the night, yet she could discern nothing, for the darkness veiled her sight. For a time she heard nothing save the beating of her own heart. Then, she heard a cry, muffled and remote. Once more she heard footfalls growing steadily louder, and she recognised the firm tread of Thaliondil. She sighed with relief, and drew herself hurriedly to her feet.

Thaliondil came into view, and in his arms he bore the motionless figure of a maiden. Tinuial gasped. The girl was hooded and cloaked all in black, and little of her face could be seen. Thaliondil placed her gently upon the ground, and she lay still and peaceful as though deep in slumber. Tinuial knelt beside the maiden. Carnil woke suddenly, and seeing the maiden he rose and stood beside Thaliondil, gazing down into the pale face of the mysterious lady who lay there. She was unmistakably an Elf, and dazzlingly fair to look upon. Her face, however, was ashen and pinched, and she looked as though she had not eaten for many days.

'What has happened to her?' Tinuial whispered softly. 'Is she hurt?'

'I do not believe so,' Thaliondil replied solemnly. 'Yet weariness lies heavily upon her. I know not whence she came; she spoke no word to me. She did not hear my approach, and she was shocked by my sudden appearance. She cried out in terror, and yet was so worn with exhaustion that she fell senseless into my arms. Light as air she was,' At this, the maiden began to stir. Though her face was shrouded in shadow, the sparkle of her bright eyes could easily be seen. She sat up with a jolt, and cried aloud to find herself in the company of three strangers. She looked about her, clearly disorientated. Frantically, she attempted to drag herself to her feet, yet Tinuial placed her hand upon the maiden's quaking shoulder.

'We do not wish to harm you.' Tinuial murmured gently.

'Do not fear us,' Carnil said, fetching a flask of water and handing it gently to the frightened girl, who accepted it gratefully, yet spoke no word. As she drained the flask, the three companions watched her in silence.

'Are you hurt, lady?' Carnil asked her when she had finished. The maiden shook her head.

Some minutes of heavy silence had passed. Tinuial was busying herself in the preparation of food for the Elven maid, whilst Thaliondil and Carnil sat beside the girl and watched her with covert interest. She seemed reluctant to speak.

'Are you lost?' Carnil asked softly. The maiden nodded lightly.

'Whence came you?' Thaliondil demanded bluntly. She turned from him and spoke no word. There was a pause.

'Have you any kin?' Carnil asked quietly. It seemed she responded better to gentleness. The maiden looked him in the eyes, and a tear rolled down her cheek, ensnaring the frail starlight as it fell. She raised her white, delicate hand to her face and dashed away the tear.

'Forgive me, lady!' Carnil said hurriedly. At that point, Tinuial approached softly and handed the maiden food, which she ate hungrily. Carnil sighed.

'I must rest.' He said wearily, and for the second time that night he made ready to sleep. The maiden's gaze was fixed upon Carnil, and her glimmering eyes pursued him as he turned from her. Thaliondil sat upon the hard ground with his back to a tree once more. He clearly did not intend to sleep, and he eyed the maiden with quiet distrust. She noted this, and shot him a vaguely disgruntled glance from under her dark hood.

'I bid you goodnight,' Tinuial said politely to the girl. 'Yet I would have you tell me your name. I am Tinuial.'

'Elmarië, I am named.' She replied softly, in her melodious Elven voice. Tinuial smiled, and turned away.


	15. Elmarie

A/N – Last Temptation – thanks again! And I'm very sorry for the delay; there have been internet issues!

Chapter 14 – Elmarië

The morning dawned bright and fair, and the light of the rising sun flooded past the dark shapes of the trees. Tinuial looked to Thaliondil, who sat already awake. Either that or he had not rested at all, for he looked weary indeed, with shadows gathering in dark crescents beneath his eyes. Tinuial's gaze strayed to the maiden, Elmarië, who lay at rest a little apart from the others, her face shadowed by her dark hood. Carnil stirred, and yawned.

'Where is she from, I wonder?' Tinuial muttered, gazing at Elmarië with concern.

'What secrets does she keep?' Thaliondil asked sullenly. 'No word would she say of herself. Do not be too quick to trust this girl, and remember that aught she tells us may be false!'

'Her secrets are her own, to keep or share as she wishes! We have no reason to doubt her.' Tinuial sprang to the maiden's defence, glaring angrily at her brother.

'I for one do not think her likely to do us harm,' Carnil sighed wearily. 'I pity her indeed, yet Thailiondil is correct - folk who wander the wild are seldom what they appear to be, and in all cases trust must be earned.'

As though she understood that she was being discussed, Elmarië sat up with a start. Her mind was for a brief moment filled with confusion, as she beheld the faces of three strangers gazing silently at her, and then the events of the previous night dawned on her in a flash of memory. She threw back her hood.

Elmarië's hair was thick and dusky, tumbling across her moon-delicate face in sumptuous black coils. It seemed that her features were etched of star-polished ivory, like a vision half-glimpsed by moonlight, beautiful to dimensions entirely beyond the scope of mortal loveliness. Her huge eyes were of the deepest, most haunting shade of midnight blue, set like glistening diamonds amid her the unearthly glory of her face. The three companions gaped at her in astonished silence as she drew herself elegantly to her feet and fixed them with her alarming sapphire stare. Tinuial could not help but feel a distinct stab of envy as she gazed at the exquisite creature. It was immensely foolish, for this maiden's beauty was so much greater than her own that the two of them could not even be compared, yet that was scarcely a comforting fact. Tinuial had always known herself to be fair - by mortal standards, considerably so - yet in Nargothrond there had been countless Elven maids a great deal lovelier than herself, and Elmarië surpassed every one of them. It didn't help matters that Carnil and Thaliondil were both gaping like idiots at the beautiful girl. Tinuial frowned. Elmarie herself seemed untroubled by their scrutiny, (she was probably well accustomed to it, Tinuial concluded sullenly) in fact, the faintest curl of her rosebud lips suggested that she rather enjoyed it. Yet as Tinuial studied her closely, it seemed that the girl was not entirely at ease. There was a taut readiness in her stance, so subtle as to be hardly noticed. Her eyes were large and guileless, her beauty entirely disarming - her slender frame gave her a frail and helpless appearance, almost like a child, but Tinuial noted that her countenance was that of a hunted animal, cornered, and ready to strike. Yet surely she knew by now that these three strangers meant her no harm? Tinuial posed her no particular threat, and Thaliondil and Carnil seemed incapable of uttering so much as a word to her in their current state. At last, Tinuial coughed politely, and her two male companions averted there eyes from the maiden almost instantly.

'Tell us of yourself, girl.' Thaliondil demanded abruptly. All admiration had faded from his face, and he now eyed her distrustfully. Elmarië glanced at him, a little taken aback by the sharpness of his tone. There was a momentary flash of annoyance in her deep eyes.

'What do you wish to know?' She asked cooly, schooling her exquisite features back into order.

'Whence came you, Lady?' Carnil asked softly.

'I am from Doriath, the realm of King Thingol.' She replied, her voice rich yet courteous. She looked upon Carnil.

'Then you are far from home! Are you lost?' Tinuial said, puzzled.

'Alas, Doriath is my home no longer,' Elmarië exclaimed sadly. 'It is merely the land of my birth. I am not lost, for I have no destination. Though in truth I suppose that I _am _lost, for I have no notion of where I am.'

'Have you any companions?' Carnil asked with concern.

'I am alone.' She blinked away the tears that started in her eyes, her long black lashes fluttering gently. Tinuial watched the maiden shrewdly - Elmarië's ready stance had not altered in the slightest. Her eyes, though tear-misted and achingly sorrowful, were sharp, and aware of every move the three companions made. She was not so wholly overcome by grief, then, and most certainly kept her wits about her. Tinuial wondered fleetingly whether the maiden was duplicitous, or merely wary - or else, if her own involuntary envy was making her uncharitable.

'If you do not mind my asking, lady, for what reason did you depart from Doriath?' Carnil's voice was hushed and soothing, as though to pain Elmarië as little as possible.

'I do not expect you to comprehend my reasoning, for I myself do not. Long years I dwelt in Doriath, yet evil befell me there, and I could no longer bear to remain. Bitterly do I regret my foolishness! It was partly through fear, I think, that I fled. Yet I acted in haste, and could not have foreseen how hard my life would be in the wild. Gladly would I face that terror if in exchange I could simply behold Doriath once more.'

'What horror did you flee from, Lady?' Carnil questioned. 'What has befallen you?'

'I can tell you only that I was almost slain. One whom I had trusted, attempted to take my life. I can say no more, for upon my life I cannot betray this secret.' This exclamation was followed by a striken silence. All three companions wished to question her further on this matter, yet they all deemed it unwise.

'I gather from your words that you wish to return to Doriath,' Carnil said warily. 'Despite your misfortune.'

'I wish to return indeed!' Elmarië answered, 'Had I known more of the lands beyond Doriath ere I departed, I should never have left my home!'

'Surely you would rather face the wilds, than retrun to a situation where your death may result!' Carnil was quietly incredulous.

'Yet I caused the situation to arise. It is I who am truly to blame!' Elmarië exclaimed sadly. A frail tear coursed its way down her cheek, leaving a glimmering trail of glass. 'It can perhaps be righted, and I wish now more than aught else to return.'

'Carnil,' Tinuial said faintly. 'Know you the way to Doriath?'

'I know whither the Realm of Thingol lies,' Carnil replied slowly. 'As indeed I know all this land.'

'Then you would take me to my home?' Elmarië pleaded, gazing intently into his green eyes.

'I would not gladly pass the borders of Doriath,' Carnil said warily. 'For enchantment lies upon that Realm. I can, nonetheless, lead you to the eaves of the forest of Region.'

'You are kind!' Elmarië cried joyfully, a sparkling smile upon her face.

'It will be many days ere we reach the land of King Thingol,' Carnil remarked blankly. 'We must depart at once.'

'I thank you indeed!' Elmarië said, yet she found no more to say, and fell silent.

Within minutes the four of them were journeying slowly onwards. As they plodded on, the trees about them became scarce, and soon enough the land opened out before them. The hazy afternoon light bathed the world in its gentle glow, and a faint wind hauled shreds of cloud across the pale blue sky. Tinuial looked at her companions. Carnil seemed deep in thought, and Thaliondil was sullen. Elmarië's impossibly beautiful eyes mirrored the sky as she gazed heavenward. Tinuial could not dismiss the sudden wish that her own eyes were as wondrous and blue. She was taken aback at how relieved she was that her companions no longer appeared dazzled merely by Elmarië's loveliness, though Carnil seemed rather to take pains not to so much as glance in the maiden's direction, which Tinuial found slightly worrying in itself. She did not wish to distrust him, or doubt the love he had proclaimed for her, yet she could not utterly quell the memory of how he had gazed at Elmarië upon first beholding her. The thought that he might desert her in favour of the exquisite Elven maid was intolerable. No, she ought not even consider such things! Neither Carnil nor Elmarië herself had done aught to deserve her suspicion. She resolved there and then to consider the matter no more, for it was sheer idiocy. And whatever her feelings, she would not be churlish to the maiden, unlike Thaliondil. Without a word, the companions plunged silently into the unknown lands, and Tinuial shuddered in the Autumn chill, which seemed to loom ever behind the pale sunlight.

A deep blue twilight lingered sadly in the cold sky, like a wraith of the forsaken daylight. A hissing wind seethed upon the night air and surged past the naked branches of the trees, making them stir faintly with a dry creaking sound. Time drew on, and the night seemed heavy with it's own quiet lament, as it mourned for the light and warmth which was lost. Carnil opened his eyes, awoken suddenly by he knew not what. Tinuial lay beside him, the moonlight caressing her sleeping face with its cold touch, and making her pale hair glitter like the silver frost of stars. Carnil smiled as he looked upon her, and clasped her hand gently. A deep pang of regret smote his heart, and the smile died upon his lips, as he thought of the darkness of his own doom. Tinuial's fate was now entwined with his, and there could be no escape from the shadow which closed in about them. Would Tinuial ever tire of life in the wilderness? He sincerely hoped not, for when they were pursued by such ceaseless evil, they could make no lasting abode. He gazed into the misted heavens, wondering sadly if Tinuial would turn her heart from him, when she realised how little he had to offer her. They possessed only their love, yet it was foolish indeed to believe that love alone could suffice to keep them from destruction. He sighed deeply, gazing back down at Tinuial. And as he beheld her once more, his troubles seemed to melt away, like a grim night banished by the glimmer of dawn. He was burdened still by grief and care, yet when he looked upon her face, somehow it no longer mattered.


	16. Echoes of Elbereth

Chapter 15 – Echoes of Elbereth

'Can you not sleep?' came a soft voice from the shadows behind him. It tore so suddenly through his deep, silent thoughts, that Carnil raised his head in sudden alarm, staring wildly into the gloom.

'Pardon me, I did not mean to startle you.' Two dark blue eyes twinkled icily in the chill moonlight with the radiance of diamonds. Elmarië. Carnil was unsure why he had been so shocked to hear the sound of her voice, for she spoke so softly, almost soothingly.

'It matters not,' he whispered. 'Yet you also are wakeful, Lady. Is there something amiss?' Elmarië drew a little closer to him.

'I am troubled,' she murmured. 'For though I desire to return home indeed, almost I dare not, for the fear of what may await me there.'

'Will you not say more of what caused you to leave Doriath?' Carnil asked softly, not looking her in the eye. As the words passed his lips, he realised suddenly that he didn't want to know, and hoped she would decline to speak of her troubles. He had not the strength left to adopt the sorrows of another.

'I can recount my tale,' she said mysteriously. 'Yet you must vow to make my secret your own.'

'You have my word that I shall tell no soul, living or dead,' he answered steadily, his heart sinking.

'I have told you already that I was almost slain,' she said, her voice ringing with sudden raw sorrow. 'Yet I did not tell you by whom.' She bowed her head for an instant and paused. It seemed to Carnil that she trembled.

'I do not demand that you tell me of this, Lady!' He exclaimed, backing away from her a little without even realising. 'And if you do not wish to speak of yourself then you may not.' She shook her head, and their eyes suddenly met. He almost flinched from the bright beauty of her gaze.

'For weeks I have told my secret only to the empty darkness!' She moaned. 'And the burden of my grief is so heavy that I feel I shall break, and die. You must aid me!'

'Hush,' he whispered. 'Or you shall wake the others!' He paused, and she looked at him pleadingly until he resumed: 'All the aid I have, I shall give you.' He said quietly, wondering doubtfully what she desired of him.

'Then I will tell you my tale,' she said, pushing her black windswept hair from her eyes. 'It begins in Doriath.' He nodded, and listened in silence as she recounted her tale in her soft, breathy voice.

'My kin live in the forest of Region, scarce a league distant from the caves of Menegroth, the abode of King Thingol. I myself have dwelt there all my life, and I was content for long years. I believed that my life would remain so forever, and yet it appears to have been fated otherwise. When I came of Age, several months ago, a huntsmen named Culdir sought my hand in marriage. I refused, for I scarely knew him, and loved him not at all. Yet my father had other plans. Culdir comes from a wealthy family, and is deemed respectable by all. And if nothing else, I think father wanted rid of me. I have three young sisters, and a brother, and father clearly desired to shift the burden onto another's shoulders! Yet my heart was decided, and I did not wish to wed Culdir. When he learned of what had befallen, my father's wrath was great, and he gave me no choice other than to obey him. Against my will, I was betrothed to Culdir. For weeks I dwelt in misery, desiring only to be free to follow my heart. Each night I wept bitterly beneath the stars, and said a silent prayer to Elbereth, begging to be somehow rescued from my plight. Yet no answer came, and the time of my wedding drew close.

Upon the very Eve of the marriage, I sat in silent thought as dusk fell heavily about me. I dreaded the approach of dawn, and what it would bring to me. In the time that had passed I had become acquainted with my betrothed, and had come to love him even less, if that were possible. For he is rude and uncaring, thinking of none but himself. His servants he treats with contempt, and were I to become his wife, then I doubt not I should be counted among them. His arrogance is scarce to be believed, and in truth he deserves no wife! I could see no escape from my doom, yet I vowed to shed no more tears on his account. I lay then upon the soft grass, my eyes meeting with the stars, and I said my final prayer to Elbereth. I begged no longer for one to come and rescue me, or for my father to reconsider his choice, or even for Culdir to change his ways. I prayed for death, the only freedom that lay within my reach. Slowly, I fell into a deep sleep, desiring never again to wake.

Of a sudden, the stars seemed to burst with shimmering light about me, and I thought for a moment that my wish had been granted, and that I beheld the radiance of Valinor beyond the misted Seas of this world. I heard a voice within my head, the like of which I have never heard before, or since. If ever the stars of heaven could speak, then such a voice would they use. It was soft as a breath of wind, and as beautiful as the frozen heavens, yet was powerful enough to rend my spirit from this world and cast me into the Void, if it so wished. Yet it merely spoke to me, and I saw many things of which I will speak to none. Concerning my plight, it bade me only to follow my heart. I opened my eyes, and the voice was gone. I found that the night was still young, and scarcely a few minutes had passed, though it seemed to me that the Voice had held me in its grasp for years beyond count. I thought that perhaps it had been a dream, and yet as the night sky burned so bright above me I felt in my heart that I had indeed recieved a gift from Elbereth, Lady of the Stars.

'I was afraid no more, and I went in search of Culdir. When I found him, I said naught of the voice which had visited me, yet I made it clear that I would not wed him. He was outraged, for though he could not claim me as his own, my words to him had not been kind. I strode from his house, planning to leave Doriath that very night. At dawn my father would surely learn of my deeds, and by that time I had to be gone. I had travelled some way into the forest, yet I found myself unable to go any further. I could not abandon my family in such a manner, without bidding them farewell, or leaving behind any sign or token. The thought came to me that I would leave them a letter. I had no notion of what to write, yet at the least they would have had them know that my decision to leave was not without regret. My father I would not miss, yet my mother, who's only fault is her weakness of will, I simply could not abandon with no word of explanation. My sisters also I care for, and my brother I love best of all. I turned, and made my way homeward for the final time. The world was still cloaked in shadow, yet the hours before dawn approached, and I knew that I must be swift.

'When I reached my home, father was waiting for me. He knew of what I had done - evidently Culdir had sent a him a messenger - and such a look was upon his face that I froze in terror, unable to move. Yet the light of Elbereth burned within me, and I would not give in. He beat me, as he had not since my childhood, and I fell to my knees before him. Yet I refused to consent to marry Culdir. At last, he drew his sword, and set it upon my throat. I beheld the blade glint in the first light of dawn, and felt it's bitter touch against my skin. I wondered for an instant if my prayer for death was being granted. Yet at that moment I heard a voice calling my name. It echoed through the darkness of the house. It was my brother, Imcair. My father told him to leave us be, but when Imcair saw what had transpired he was furious indeed, seeing that father was assailed by some madness. He strode forth, and his sword rang sharply as he drew it. Father took the blade from my throat, and pushed me aside. Imcair would listen to no word father said, for he was deafened by his own rage. I was largely unhurt, save for bruises, and I felt the hot blood trickle down my neck where the blade had pierced the skin, yet father had done me no permanent harm. I saw Imcair try to wrest the sword from my father's grasp, yet I beheld no more, for I fled from the house ere they had a chance to stop me.

I left my home, and I ran, and did not stop. I saw the dawn grow on the horizon, and I sped into it heedless of any peril. I threw myself desperately into the new day, and I tore deeper into the forest flying swift as the wind, until at great length my legs gave way beneath me, and my consciousness faded. When I awoke, I was in a place I had never been before. The trees were tall and huge in girth, and the light of heaven could barely be seen through the twisted branches above me. I recognised nothing, and it seemed that I was far from home. I was frightened, and yet I remembered the voice of Elbereth bidding me to follow my heart. I had no desire to return and face the wrath of my kin! And so I left.'

She fell silent, and looked at Carnil pleadingly, her eyes brimming with tears. She seemed so frail and forlorn, her full lips trembling as the tears began to streak her alabaster face. Carnil felt a sudden desire to cradle the girl in his arms, yet he did not.

'Why do you now return to Doriath?' He asked quietly, after a moment of silence.

'I despise living in the wild!' She wailed. 'I am not made for such an existence, and I have begun to think that even were I forced to wed Culdir, my life should not be so terrible as it is now. Am I truly reduced to this - the life of any common vagabond?'

'Would you trade your freedom for the comforts of home?' He asked incredulously.

'I count it not freedom,' she exclaimed bitterly, 'to wander the empty lands alone. I am alone, more so than ever, and though I do not believe that I should be any more content in Doriath, I could at least dwell there in comfort. I would not expect you to understand. I, however, am accustomed to finer living than this '

'You are strange to me, Lady.' Carnil sighed, his brow furrowing. Elmarië shrugged, then looked up into his face, smiling faintly.

'It is even as Elbereth told me.' She murmured distantly. Carnil cast her an inquiring glance, yet she said no more. She leaned lightly forward, and kissed his cheek. The touch of her lips was soft and delicate as cloud-vapour, yet he flinched involuntarily.

'Do not be afraid.' She whispered, eyeing him innocently.

'Good night.' He said abruptly. He turned from her, and lay down beside Tinuial.

Within minutes, Carnil lay sleeping, and Elmarië could hear his soft breathing. She wept silently in the darkness, a constant stream of tears coursing down her flawless cheeks like a ceaseless rain. Through the mist of her sorrow, she suddenly noticed two sharp eyes regarding her coldly. She started. It was Thaliondil. She knew not how long he had been watching her, yet she feared that he had seen what had befallen moments before between she and Carnil. Thaliondil's face was bathed in shadow, yet his grey eyes glimmered like moonlit ice. He drew himself angrily to his feet and glared down at Elmarië where she knelt.

'It is rude to stare.' She said faintly, though her words carried no conviction. Her sorrow left her somehow listless and deflated, unable to muster any venom, even for Thaliondil to whom she was harbouring a swiftly growing dislike.

'I care not!' he growled, drawing closer until he stood barely a pace distant from her. 'Yet my sister I _do _care for! Do not destroy her happiness.'

'I wish her no harm!' Elmarië said weakly. She fixed Thaliondil with her most imploring gaze, staring up into his thunderous face from beneath her wet eyelashes. 'I beg your forgiveness, if I have done ill - such was never my intent. I am merely so alone - so alone...' She cringed to imagine how pathetic she must appear, on her knees and weeping before him. Yet surely he would take pity on her, now, so vulnerable and repentant, so stunningly beautiful - for Elmarië was indeed aware of her own loveliness; how could she possibly be otherwise? From birth it had been her one defining feature; her one weapon; her one advantage. Heaven knows no one had ever taken the time or trouble to appreciate any other attributes she may or may not have possessed.

Thaliondil's face was unreadable. The moonlight lent his strong, fine features an aspect of hollowness, accentuating the sorrow graven indelibly into the taut lines of his visage, and teeming coldly in his acute grey eyes. He was beautiful, she thought suddenly - for a moment he appeared more beautiful than any fair dream or vision she had ever beheld. She reached out and caught his hand suddenly, clasping his slender fingers tightly in her own. Without a moment's hesitation he drew his hand disdainfully from her grasp, glaring at her with a rage Elmarie found incomprehensible - what could she possibly have done to incur such dreadful wrath?

'Stay away from Carnil, and from me, you vile whore,' he said harshly, impervious to her tears. 'The sooner we are rid of you, the better.' He turned away from her, his face hard and grave, and retreated into the shadows. Elmarië knelt where she was, motionless, struck dumb, almost blind with humiliation. There was a thunder within her - a fury so great she was rooted to the spot, as though crystallized in one frozen moment of the purest agony. She would shed no more tears this night, for the well of her sorrow had run dry, and in its place now stood a vast and seething rage. In any case, she would shed no tears at all for the sake of Thaliondil. She gritted her teeth, and glared furiously into the darkness. Now she had a focus for her hatred, and she resolved then and there to despise him, all her life long.


	17. The Eaves of Region

Last Temptation - I am so sorry for the delay! (If you're still reading this and haven't given up on me completely) There have been still more internet issues. But hopefully that's all come to an end. To reward your saintly patience, I come bearing updates!

Chapter 16 - The Eaves of Region

In the days that followed, the land about them changed little, and the weather was for the most part mild and pleasant. Yet the bite of Winter was in the air, and the raw silence of the shifting season lay all about. Ten days had passed since their first meeting with Elmarië, and they drew now close to the land of her home. Gradually, a hush had fallen upon the companions, and they each seemed reticent to speak. Carnil was sombre and distant, and would sit alone deep in thought staring into the cold sky; and when they travelled he would gaze blankly ahead, speaking only when spoken to, and even then being distinctly unresponsive. Thaliondil was sullen and icy. He regarded Elmarië with unmitigated scorn, making it clear with the occasional dismissive remark or sharp glance that he liked her not at all. Elmarië made not the slightest effort to retaliate, yet as the days drew on, her silent fury became more alarming than any retort or insult she may have uttered. After a time, as though gradually perceiving that her silent, wintry contempt for him was far more lethal than his own aimless and immature anger, Thaliondil ceased to insult the Elven maid, and attempted to ignore her altogether. He deliberately avoided her perilous glances; yet when their gazes did happen to meet on rare occasions, his eyes were invariably the first to flinch away. Elmarië began to realise that for all his blusterings and aggression, her own will was by far the stronger of the two. She was pleased to discern that the more her blazing eyes strayed in his direction, the more pains Thaliondil took to avoid them. Although it seemed that he observed her quite often out of the corner of his eye, by the time the company neared its destination, he was either unwilling or unable to look her full in the face. However, the pleasure gained by such petty triumphs was gradually eclipsed by a creeping sense of dread, as Elmarië drew closer to her home. The dark line of the forest of Region began to march upon the Northern horizon, growing by the hour, chasm-black and illimitable as the Void.

Darkness fell heavily upon the eaves of the forest, and a thick, black night held the land in its grasp. Elmarië looked upon her companions silently, the high, twisting branches of the trees casting ghostly silhouettes upon her white face, and her eyes gleaming faintly in the pale starlight.

'The time has come, I think, to say farewell,' she said quietly in a voice that shook.

'It has indeed.' Carnil replied awkwardly. 'For I do not wish to venture within the land of Doriath. It is perilous.'

'If there is such deadly peril, then we ought not abandon Elmarië to face it alone.' Tinuial objected, ignoring the sharp glance of Carnil. Looking at Elmarië now, she felt nothing but pity for the girl, and a pang of shame for her previous dislike - the maiden had, after all, done nothing to warrant it. Her only fault, in truth, was being outstandingly beautiful, and that was scarcely sufficient reason to despise her. All day Elmarië had been subdued and utterly mournful, and Tinuial had scarcely heeded her, her thoughts having been utterly preoccupied with Carnil. She felt now that she had wronged Elmarië with her envy and unjust suspicion (though admittedly, a stubborn trace of it still lingered) and she could not now abandon her to the peril of the Forest without shame.

'I do not wish to be alone in such a place,' Elmarië admitted forlornly. 'Yet I can demand no more of you. Thus far you have led me, and for the kindness you have shown me I am grateful indeed.'

'She might die within the forest, if she is alone!' Tinuial looked pleadingly at Carnil. The concern in her eyes, though new, was unfeigned.

'It is her own choice to venture within Doriath, and to brave the enchantment which lies upon it!' Carnil exclaimed with some annoyance, 'Spells of bewitchment lie amid the trees, cast there by Queen Melian herself! We possess not the power to elude such snares, and we shall become lost - enmeshed in an endless maze of impenetrable trees!'

'Your words do not dissuade me, Carnil!' Tinuial answered stubbornly. 'They merely prove to me that I have not the heart to allow Elmarië to enter such a place alone. I at least shall accompany her!'

Elmarië looked at Tinuial in surprise, and the ghost of a genuine smile touched her lips.

'Very well,' Carnil said wearily. 'I too feared for the safety of Elmarië, and as Tinuial refuses to desert her, neither shall I.'

'I thank you indeed!' Elmarië cried, with a dazzling smile. 'These past days I have dreaded not only my journey through the forest, but also my return home. I fear what may lie there in wait for me.' Her smile faded, and her eyes seemed clouded by a mist of memory.

'Do not fear, for you shall come to no harm.' Tinuial said firmly. Tinuial glanced at Thaliondil, expecting him to object to her decision to remain with Elmarië, for she had noted his hostility towards her. Yet Thaliondil, to the surprise of all, said nothing. He merely shrugged, his face expressionless and grim. Without another word, the four companions plunged into the darkness of the forest of Region.

For hours they marched onwards, feeling their way in the breathless shadow, and stumbling constantly upon the protruding roots of the sprawling trees. A mute darkness closed in about them, and the forest seemed tightly netted in a mist of dusky silence. Even the sound of their breaths and hesitant footfalls seemed muffled. They did not dare unveil the lantern, for fear of drawing danger to themselves. They eventually halted for the night, weary and downhearted, and within minutes each of them lay deep in slumber.

Though sleep held him still, Carnil could not escape the sensation that he was being watched. He lay caught amid dark dreams from which he could not break free, yet a sudden noise caught his attention, and dragged him headlong into wakefulness. He sat up with a jolt, looking about him frantically. Before him loomed two dark shapes, veiled in the gloom. They advanced with great speed, and ere he could drag himself to his feet they towered tall above him, resolving themselves into the forms of two Elves. They were huntsmen by the look of them, and grim expressions were upon their fair faces. Though they bore no lanterns, their forms and faces appeared to shimmer dimly, almost imperceptibly.

'Declare yourselves, strangers!' The foremost Elf demanded sternly, drawing his sword. 'What is your business in the Realm of Thingol and Melian?' The blade gleamed with a chill light, which reflected upon his clear grey eyes. Tinuial and Thaliondil both stirred, and eyed the two Elves in wonder.

'Lower your sword at once!' Came a sharp, authoritative voice from behind Carnil. It was Elmarië. She stood tall and proud, gazing hotly into the eyes of the huntsmen. She seemed now more beautiful than ever before, glimmering like a remote reflection of the lost radiance of Valinor. The glow she emitted, though subtle and fine, was far stronger and clearer than that of the other two Elves. Whereas their radiance teetered on the brink of perception, hers was plain to see. Her companions blinked dazedly, wondering how she had concealed it before, or how they had failed to notice.

'Lady Elmarië!' Cried the Elf, a look of dismay upon his face, 'Forgive me! For in the shadow I did not perceive you.' He promptly slid his glittering sword in its sheath, and both Elves bowed low to her. Elmarië ignored the bemused glances of her companions.

'It matters not,' she said kindly, smiling at them. 'What are your names?'

'I am Alkanto,' the Elf replied nervously. 'My companion is named Nurram.'

'Many weeks it is since your sudden departure, Lady!' Nurram cried, gazing intently at Elmarië. 'We feared that you had perished. The King was grieved indeed at your loss.'

Tinuial started, shocked by his words. Elmarië was evidently of greater importance in Doriath than she had led them to believe. Although the maiden had admittedly told no lies concerning her origins, she had clearly been somewhat frugal with the truth. Tinuial considered fleetingly whether her wariness of the Elven maid had, after all, been justified.

'Who are these others?' Alkanto asked, surveying them with interest. The keen eyes of Nurram, however, remained fixed upon Elmarië as though he could not bear to tear his gaze from her.

'They are Thaliondil, Tinuial and Carnil.' Elmarië replied, gesturing to each of them in turn. 'My worthy companions. They have led me thus far, and were it not for them I would have remained lost! Indeed, I believe I owe them my life.'

'Then they shall be treated with great honour!' Exclaimed Nurram, 'For the King values you highly - Fairest Lady of all his kin, save Luthien only.' Elmarië smiled at him. Nurram was very fair, with laughing blue eyes, and light golden hair which curled about his merry face.

'Would you be so kind as to lead me to Menegroth?' She requested courteously.

'If you wish it, Lady,' replied Alkanto. 'Though it will be a journey of several days!'

They started off almost immediately. Alkanto led the way, and strode out before the others. He was courteous, yet sombre, barely uttering a word - unlike Nurram, who talked much, telling the strangers of the ways of Doriath, and the glory of Menegroth. Now and again he would raise his voice in song, and the woods would be filled with the sound of his clear voice. Elmarië and Nurram walked side by side, a little behind Alkanto. Tinuial, Carnil and Thaliondil followed on behind, feeling somewhat lost and unheeded, for as time progressed Nurram spoke to them less, and sang no more, whispering only in hushed tones to Elmarië. Their path twisted tortuously through the dark trees, and how Alkanto found his way Tinuial could not imagine. Yet she felt in her heart a deep longing to behold the wonders of Menegroth, which Nurram spoke of with such delight.

The days passed slowly, and it was with growing dread that Elmarië drew closer to Menegroth. She could not imagine quite what would befall her when she reached her home, and the gathering dusk only increased her sorrow. In the deeps of the night, while her companions rested, she quietly stole a short way into the forest and sat apart from them. She did not wish to wake them with the sound of her weeping, as it would inevitably lead to awkward questions. She wondered bitterly if upon returning home she would be forced to wed Lord Culdir after all. That would be a heinous development indeed; after having gone to such extravagant lengths to avoid the marriage. Although their acquaintance had been brief, she had quickly identified him as the cruellest, most malicious and arrogant man she had ever encountered. She would sooner be dead than joined in matrimony to him. Yet surely, such a proud and savage man would have no desire to marry her after she had so publicly disgraced and insulted him, even if her father still had a mind to be rid of her. No; whatever lay ahead of her, she felt fairly secure that she could dispel that particular worry from her mind.

The darkness about her seemed to take on a life of its own, pressing in upon her like the bars of a cage. How foolish she had been, to hope for an escape from her shadow, for all the world was plunged into a deep pool of anguish and darkness, and none were truly free from it. Even her anger at Thaliondil had largely corroded, and she was face to face once again with her own sorrow. A sudden noise, as of a sharp intake of breath startled her out of her gloomy reverie. She turned about, and saw Carnil sitting up, his eyes wide. His hands shook visibly, and his heavy breathing rent through the silence of the night.

'What is the matter?' Elmarië whispered curiously. He turned his head sharply and caught sight of her.

'Naught.' He snapped, with a sudden anger she could not comprehend. 'It was a dream, nothing more!'

'I asked a simple question, I do not believe it warranted such rudeness.' She remarked.

'Go back to sleep, Elmarië.' He answered wearily. She turned her back to him, yet as she turned her face caught the pallid moonlight, and Carnil saw that she wept. He sighed, and drew himself unwillingly to his feet. He trudged over to where she sat huddled upon the ground, and knelt beside her. His green eyes were clouded with weariness, and his face was worn and solemn, yet his words were soft.

'You are grieved, Lady,' he said slowly and wearily. 'Though I know not why. For was it not your desire to return to Doriath?'

'It was.' She said bitterly, 'And now I am afraid. We are not far from Menegroth, and soon I must explain myself to King Thingol. And then I shall have to face father, and mother, and -' she paused for an instant, and then resumed, 'And Lord Culdir. I have no doubt that they all are furious at me!'

'You must abide by your own decision to return,' Carnil said simply. 'You knew quite well what you were returning to. There can be no turning back.'

'I am aware of that.' She said, frowning.

'If you do not mind my asking, Lady, what did you hope to achieve by your actions? They seem to me somewhat fruitless.'

'I know not, in truth. All my choices of late have been foolish. I hoped, perhaps, for the love of one whom I cannot have.' She murmured. Carnil remained silent, unsure of how to reply. He hoped with all his heart that she did not refer to him.

'Did I not say to you, that the fair voice of Elbereth told me many things?' Elmarië continued faintly. 'She told me that beneath the darkness of the trees, my love would be given to one who would bear me away from my sorrow.'

'Perhaps you have yet to meet this man.' Carnil answered, backing away from her slightly. 'For I tell you truthfully, I do not love you.' Yet she persisted, her eyes pleading with him.

'No more do I love you, if I am entirely honest!' She cried sadly, 'Ah, the strange workings of my heart! I desire you not greatly, and yet I feel that I _should_; that fate was at work when we met beneath the trees. So greatly do I long to love you that it terrifies me. Yet such things can grow, given but a chance! I beg you to take me from this place! I beg you!'

'Know you not that my love is given to Tinuial?' He retorted, in growing displeasure. 'Would you have me desert her?'

'Aye, I would - I would, at that. Much as my own callousness disgusts me,' Elmarië whimpered. 'For she has already the protection of Thaliondil, who would no doubt lay down his life to see her safe. I am alone and friendless - I need you more than she could ever know!'

Her eyes were alive with silver tears, kindled by the watery moonlight, and the desolation in her face was an anguish to behold. She was heart-rendingly exquisite, Carnil thought, and her beauty was that of another world. The magnitude of her misery struck his soul like a bolt of fire, and it pained him greatly to acknowledge that he had some part in that grief, yet it could not be helped. He did not love her; at least, not as he loved Tinuial. No man could look upon such a face as Elmarië's and be unmoved by desire. And yet he realised, with an inward shudder, that his feelings for this Elven maid amounted to more than a passing admiration for her fair face. He could have succumbed to her, there and then, but for Tinuial. He could have loved her, perhaps, had he but given himself the chance; had he not been so certain that his place was beside Tinuial.

'You are the one who will save me. You have to be!' She breathed softly, clutching at his arm with her delicate, quaking hand.

'I am sorry.' He enunciated to the mournful darkness which surged about them both. Tearing himself from her grasp with a stab of regret deeper than he would ever admit, he retreated into the shadow and left Elmarië to her silent thoughts.


	18. The Halls of Menegroth

A/N - and here's the second update of the day. Exhausting.

Chapter 17 - The Halls of Menegroth

Dawn slowly bled its molten radiance into the dim sky. As the crimson sun ascended high, the companions drew close to Menegroth. Elmarië was silent, and barely spoke to her companions, save Nurram only, whom she seemed fond of. Tinuial was looking about her in wonder, as the fair light of the growing dawn revealed the land. The trees became increasingly scarce, yet they were exceedingly tall, soaring upwards like almighty pillars of the sky. This land was comparitively densely populated, and the folk of Doriath milled through the trees, going about their daily business. Yet they would halt in their tracks and gape at the sight of Elmarië, murmuring among themselves, for all seemed to know and recognise her.

The voice of the River Esgalduin played upon the edge of hearing, and amid the noise of surging water there seemed to be caught the sweet silvery ring of laughter, distant and fair. Songs of joy and great sorrow mingled into a soaring harmony and drifted lightly upon the fragrant air, whispering tales of a forgotten world beyond the reach of mortal memory. Sunlight danced merrily upon the surface of the bubbling river, and upon the clear eyes and fair faces of the Elves. The company crossed a grand stone bridge, which leapt gracefully across the River. Ere Tinuial could fully gauge her surroundings, they stood before the magnificent stone gates of Menegroth. Guards were placed at either side of the vast doors, clad in soft grey cloaks and shining mail which captured the glint of the rising sun. Alkanto strode purpousefully forward, and spoke a few hushed words to the guard upon the left hand side of the carven doors. The companions passed quickly inside, the guards surveying them silently with thoughful eyes. Dimly lit passages stretched out before them, and when all were inside, Alkanto turned to the others, his solemn grey eyes gleaming with anticipation.

'We are almost at the end of our journey. It seems that the rumour of our approach has preceeded us. We are expected.' He pushed his black hair from his eyes, and drew a deep breath, as though gathering his thoughts.

'We are to be brought before Thingol and Melian?' Asked Carnil. He did not appear to relish the prospect.

'Why, of course.' Nurram answered, smiling widely.

'Come. The Throne of Thingol is not far.' Alkanto exclaimed, and he began striding down a high-ceilinged passage. The others followed him like beings without volition. Tinuial shivered either with fear or excitement - she could not quite discern which. She was almost come to the stronghold of Doriath; the heart of the wondrous Realm of Elu Thingol and Melian the Maia, the tales of whom were part of her childhood memory.

The ways of Menegroth were convoluted and tortuous; baffling to the unfamiliar eye and mind. Halls and chambers floated by like passing dreams; vague, crystalline glimpses of an ethereal, cloud-bourne realm. A glistening wealth of light hung all about, glancing upon the many-coloured floors and illuminating the woven tapestries which hung from the walls like elegantly misted memories, or perhaps faint snatches of things yet to be. Carvings and statues like dim visions of a lost world adorned the walls and lofty ceilings, and strewn all about was a glittering mist of fair pearls and twinkling gems. Nightingales flitted like sunbeams about the majestic halls, and their sweet song seemed to hang, suspended delicately, upon the shivering air. The splendour of Menegroth was too great to be captured in the language of mortals, and nothing could Tinuial afterwards say of her thoughts as she wandered enchanted through a maze of radiance. Yet before she could grasp in her mind all that she saw and felt, her companions halted, and she drew herself to a halt. Before them stood a magnificent, arched doorway, intricately carven and traced with patterns which twisted and snaked upon its smooth surface. The great doors swung soundlessly open, and Tinuial gasped as she beheld the hall within. They were come at last to the Throne of Thingol.

An exquisite hall opened out before them, vast and glorious. The glint of gold and mithril danced all about, and grand pillars soared above them, like mountains leading gracefully towards a star-clad sky. Though many wonders bright and fair lay strewn all about as though they were mere trifles, Tinuial's eyes fell only upon Thingol and Melian, from whence the light came. Alkanto brought them slowly before the towering throne of Thingol, and Tinuial stood there aghast, bewildered by the stunning majesty of the King and Queen.

'O Gracious Lord!' Alkanto cried, and his voice shattered Tinuial's delicate dream. She blinked, and was alert once more; conscious of her situation. She had almost been consumed by fantasy, and the diaphanous visions which flitted around these hall like pale shades of the Undying Lands. Reality hurriedly dawned on her, and she knew that she must keep her wits about her.

'Lady Elmarië hath returned from the shadow!' Alkanto declared.

Thingol nodded silently. He sat upon a high, noble throne, all wrought of shimmering gold and set with blinding argent jewels. Tall he was, like no other Tinuial had ever seen. His countenance was stern and unyielding, as though his very form had been hewn of mountain rock, ancient and austere. Though no sign of age was upon him, wisdom, care and sorrow seemed to vein every sharp contour of his face. His features were beautiful, though cold and grave; with high, barren cheekbones, and eyes deep-set and clear as sparkling pools amid the stony hills of the North. His robes were of a deep, sombre grey, shrouding him in a wreath of twilight. Beside him sat Queen Melian, whose beauty was beyond comprehension. Her eyes blazed avidly, with all the molten fire of a ruinous sunset, and her long, sweeping hair spilled about her ice-white shoulders like strands of liquid silver. She was clad all in unadorned blue, as deep and pure as the noon sky, and from her face poured a white radiance which turned all the world about her to starlit glass.

Thingol turned silently to Elmarië, who stood foremost of the companions. Carnil stood behind her, unable to meet the eyes of the shimmering King and Queen. He regarded the floor instead, as though his life's meaning were written upon its chill, flawless surface. Thaliondil stood in utter silence, gazing steadily at the splendour which stood before him. Thingol's voice was deep as the rumble of thunder, and it echoed about the hall as he spoke.

'Thou hast returned at last, Sister-daughter.' Elmarië looked upon him, and smiled weakly, yet she found no words to say. She bowed her head, raven hair shrouded her face.

'Hast thou naught to tell of thy wanderings?' Thingol demanded. 'Much sorrow didst thou cause! I believed thee to be lost!'

'Forgive me, my Lord!' Elmarië begged, her voice somewhat panic-striken. 'I knew not what evil my deeds would bring!'

'Against the will of thy father and thy kin didst thou depart!' He exclaimed coldly. 'On the very Eve of thy Wedding!'

At these words Tinuial almost cried aloud in surprise, for she alone had known nothing of the tale of Elmarië's departure from Doriath. Elmarië merely shuddered, and fought to prevent the tears from forming in her eyes. Bitterly did she regret any hurt she had caused her kin, Thingol not the least, and yet deeper was her regret of returning. Thingol evidently knew nothing of her father's deeds, or else he would surely have been less reproachful of her. Yet she could not betray this secret. If she were to recount the tale of what had truly befallen on the night of her departure, it would not bode well for her father. He would be banished, she supposed, and that would tear her families' lives apart. She thought of her mother, and of her three young sisters. Any revenge upon her father would demand a heavy price. Silence deepened in the hall, and all eyes were upon Elmarie. She stood there mute and trembling before the magnificent throne of Thingol, her mother's brother, wishing desperately for this moment to end.

'Speak, girl!' Thingol demanded, a little angered by the silence of Elmarië. 'Why didst thou leave? And whither did thy wanderings take you?'

'I know not!' She cried miserably. 'Yet it was not my intention to return thus late. I became lost, and journeyed by strange paths. Little can I tell of them, for I knew not where I was! Lost I would have remained, yet beyond all hope I was aided.' She turned hurriedly, and gestured to where her companions stood. 'These others are named Tinuial, Carnil and Thaliondil. I owe them my life, and I would not be standing now before you, Sire, were it not for these kind folk.' Thingol, overlooking his niece's artful change of the subject, turned his piercing gaze to Tinuial, his eyes burning into her and surveying the innermost thoughts and wishes of her heart. No secret or deceit could she weave about herself, for Thingol, Lord of the Teleri, could be defied by few indeed. Yet he did not regard her for long, and soon his eyes were rooted upon Thaliondil, who held the gaze of the King steadfastly, showing no sign of fear or awe, save that his long pale hands shook like flightless birds at his sides. Last of all, Thingol looked upon Carnil, who would not meet with the King's cold, grey eyes, and sullenly contemplated the immaculate floor at his feet. Elmarië sighed involuntarily, relieved that her uncle's attention had been shifted elsewhere, for a time at least.

'Whence came you, strangers?' Thingol asked thoughtfully. He looked to Carnil for an answer, though when he did not reply, Thaliondil cleared his throat and replied slowly:

'We are wanderers, and have no home.'

'Hast thou naught to say, mortal?' Thingol questioned pointedly, his gaze narrowing as he watched Carnil. 'Declare thyself.'

'My name is Carnil, Sire, as the Lady Elmarië has declared,' he answered stiffly, raising his head a little, though avoiding the penetrating eyes of the King.

'Surely thou hast more to say of thyself,' Thingol urged.

'Naught is there to tell,' Carnil's eyes glinted bright green in the starry glow as he met the gaze of Thingol at last.

'Even of the lowliest person, is there somthing to tell,' came the melodious voice of Melian. Her gaze was perhaps less piercing than Thingol's, her countenance less grim and alarming; yet the light in her eyes was no less potent - and her tone, though soft and mellow, brooked no dissent. 'Falsehood thou hath spoken, in order to conceal thy past, and thy doom. Yet I see more of thee than thou knowest.' Carnil started, and looked helplessly into the conflagration of the Lady's gaze.

'Fear me not,' Melian continued in a gentler tone. 'I wish thee no harm. A shadow lies upon thy heart, yet here you may rest awhile. The darkness which pursues thee has no power here.' And with that she fell silent, closing her fiery eyes and bowing her head. Carnil smiled faintly, yet found no words to say.

'For the safe return of my Kinswoman, I thank you indeed,' Thingol declared slowly, his keen eyes regarding Carnil, Tinuial and Thaliondil. 'Here you may dwell, for as long as you wish.' He turned then to Elmarië. His visage was stern, though not unkind.

'Though I am displeased with thee, sister-daughter, I am thankful indeed for your being restored to us. Return to thy mother and father, for scarcely have I seen them so grieved as when they thought their fair daughter lost.'

'It is a joy like no other, to look upon the land of my home once more!' Elmarië exclaimed, mustering a fairly convincing smile.

Thingol was clearly unsatisfied with Elmarië's account of what had befallen, yet he did not pursue his questions. At last, the King bade them farewell. Tinuial, Thaliondil and Carnil were to reside in Menegroth, and Thingol bade his servants take them to their quarters. Elmarië would of course return to her mother and father, and Nurram had volunteered to escort her home. Tinuial barely realised that she was being led from the hall of Thingol, until she had departed, and the fair light began to fall away.

As Thingol and Melian watched them leave, a heavy silence lay between them. Melian's blazing eyes glimmered, and after a long pause she softly remarked:

'The words of Elmarië are glad, and yet her eyes tell a very different tale.' Thingol lowered his head and remained silent, an unguessable sadness resonating through his icy glance.


	19. Respite

A/N - Whaa? Non-shallow males?! I can't see that happening, within fiction or otherwise. You may not be too pleased with some of the future developments concerning Thaliondil and Elmarie; but, uh, at least you may be sure it'll all end in tears...insert evil cackle here.  
Btw, the rant was much appreciated!

Chapter 18 - Respite

Tinuial was weary, such as she had rarely been in all her life. She had hurriedly bade farewell to Carnil and Thaliondil, and was now being led to the chamber which had been prepared for her. The glistening marble floor beneath her feet was a clear mass of shimmering swirls, and it was a great effort not to simply stop and trace its flowing pattern with her weary eyes. She strove to keep up with the young Elven maid who led her. The maiden spoke quickly, and Tinuial understood few of her words, partly due to the girl's accent which was somewhat different to that of the folk of Nargothrond, though the language was the same. Yet her lack of comprehension of the maiden's constant stream of chatter occured mainly because she did not listen, and was far too enchanted with the wonders which lay all about her.

Several times Tinuial beheld a thing so fair that she stopped and gazed awhile at it, before leaping several steps to catch up with the Elven maid, who seemed perfectly oblivious to the fact that Tinuial was paying very litte heed to her. They came at last to a tall doorway, intricately carven of wood. Upon either side of the door stood a suit of shining armour, which created the unnerving effect that she was standing before two grim phantom sentinels. Tinuial passed between them a little uncertainly, and entered her brightly lit chamber. The grey stone walls were veined with delicate threads of gold; alive and glistening like a beaded constellation. A large luxurious bed was set amid the room, and after the Elf-maiden had bade her a polite farewell, Tinuial cast herself down upon it and was asleep within seconds.

When Tinuial emerged from her chamber some hours later, the shades of evening lay heavily upon the world, and the lights of Menegroth were dimmed. She was clad in a flowing gown of pale cream satin, which had been laid out for her. Her flowing skirts streamed out behind her like billows cloud as she swept through the golden passages of Menegroth. She went in search of Thaliondil and Carnil, though as yet she had seen no one at all. Tiny lanterns of crystal formed in the likeness of crescent moons embellished the rich walls, and their frosted rays glanced upon the surface of Tinuial's eyes, almost kindling the darkness of her gaze. Suddenly, she turned a sharp corner and almost crashed headlong into Carnil. She halted abruptly, and without thinking threw her arms about him. He returned her embrace, smiling for the first time in days.

Together they sat beneath the swaying branches of a tall grey tree, when finally they had found their way out of the mazes of Menegroth. Tinuial's pale hair swung in glistening strands about her smiling face, as she gazed up into the fiery sky. The clouds were ignited and stained crimson by the descent of the furious sun; a blinding disk of vermillion leaving only red-rinsed shadow in its wake. The land below seemed steeped in blood; the trees ruffled gently by the sighing of the wind.

'Have you no notion of whither my brother has gone?' Tinuial asked, lowering her face and gazing gently into Carnil's glimmering green eyes.

'I know only what I told you. The servants report that he has departed from Menegroth, and is now in the forest. I know not his purpose.' A hint of unease crept into Tinuial's eyes, and she sighed deeply.

'Do not fear for him!' Carnil clasped Tinuial's hand. 'He is able to care for himself! He would not be so uncaring as to depart from Doriath with no word. He shall soon return.'

'There is something amiss with him. He is grieved, though I know not why.' Tinuial replied, her face becoming thoughtful and pale.

'That is hardly to be wondered at, for much evil has befallen.' Carnil remarked softly.

'Indeed,' she admitted, though the worried expression did not depart from her face. Rather, the furrows of her brow deepened.

'All shall soon be well,' Carnil exclaimed. 'For in this land lies all our hope.'

'How so?' Tinuial looked at him.

'I have been troubled of late,' Carnil answered slowly. 'For when we were assailed by the thralls of Morlach, and Erdal was taken, a heavy cloud of despair, darker than the shadow which hung then about the world, sank deep into my very bones. I believed with all my heart that dawn would not come, and I should never again know light or joy. And though the sun rose indeed, its radiance seemed hollow and cold. So the world has appeared to me for many days, and my dreams have been dark. Even now I feel the presence of the shadow that pursues me, and yet in the words of Queen Melian I discerned the truth. In Menegroth there is no darkness! There is anguish, indeed, and regret, and yet all such things here are clean and blessed, untainted by the hand of evil. It has always been my belief that no light could forever endure against the darkness which now haunts this world, yet I was wrong. The dark power can find no way through the mazes of enchantment which guard this land.'

Tinuial smiled softly, the dying embers of the sun's pyre illuminating her face. Yet deep within her heart, she felt that all the light and glory of the lands of Middle-earth was somehow imperfect; marred even ere its creation. So the tales had told. And she doubted somehow - though she had no clear notion of where her fears sprang from - that even Doriath, in all its glory, could endure forever unsullied in the face of all the world's evil. Yet she said nothing of her misgivings, for despite any dark omens she may ever have heard or conveived, she could think of no place on earth where she would now rather be. When Carnil was beside her, nothing could daunt her. They sat for some time in silence as the daylight died.

'Even the splendour of Menegroth is as nothing, when compared to you.' Carnil murmured into the dusk. His words were awkward, shy almost, but he looked her steadily in the eye, and it seemed to Tinuial that the darkening heavens wheeled about her as the scarlet rays paled, and faded into a deep, sombre dusk. The glowering clouds hung heavily from the sky, as though filled with an endless stream of sorrow which they were reluctant to release. Carnil drew his trembling hand softly to Tinuial's face, caressing her cheek. Her skin was smooth and cold as glass.

'The peril I have feared all my life long can pursue us no longer,' he breathed. 'Surely we may now dwell in peace.'

'Indeed, the shadow of Morlach need no longer concern us.' She replied gently, though not without a pang of nameless anxiety. The sharp wind began to shift the heavy clouds, tearing them from where they slumbered, and the white brilliance of the moon was suddenly unveiled. Tinuial smiled, for all things seemed to her more fair when bathed in moonlight.

'Of late I may have appeared distant,' Carnil said faintly. 'Yet naught could be further from the truth. For I have thought of nothing but you, and how I am unworthy of your love.'

'Do not say such things!' Tinuial cried, as the first drops of grey rain began to leap from the sky. It cascaded like liquid moonlight upon the misted breeze and smote the ground in glistening sheets of silver.

'I do not deserve one so fair as you!' Carnil spoke against the low moan of the wind, 'And yet I would possess forever the joy that you have given me.' His green eyes sparkled as though filled with icy tears, and with a hand that now shook visibly he swept his dripping hair from his face. It was true, he thought; he _was _undeserving of her. He had come closer than he would ever admit - even to himself - to succumbling to his feelings for Elmarië. Yet he knew now with the utmost certainty that here was where his heart truly lay, beside Tinuial. Only she could chase away the fear, the memories, the guilt invoked by the shadowy spectre of Elmarië, which still loomed somewhere at the back of his mind. But perhaps it was always so; no mortal heart could ever be wholly, entirely lost to another. The tiniest fraction would always remain elsewhere, clinging to some other lost love for its own arbitrary reasons. Such was the nature of things, he supposed, and he suspected that Tinuial herself was no different. He guessed that she had not forgotten Arreion, and never would. But none of it mattered now; he was young, and in love, and free for the first time in his living memory. He looked into Tinuial's face, and felt himself at peace.

'Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?' he asked a little uncertainly, startled, almost, that he had dared to utter the words. Tinuial gasped, and could not control the beaming smile which spread itself instantly across her face.

'I desire nothing more!' She cried, clasping his hand tightly.

Far into the night they remained in that fair place, locked in a kiss that neither of them wished to end. Days or weeks may have passed unheeded, yet when they parted at last, the darkness still hung upon the air, and the rain had not abated. Tinuial's long hair shimmered with sparkling drops of water, fair as beads of dew caught amid webs of golden spidersilk.


	20. May Eru Forgive

Chapter 19 - _"May Eru Forgive..."_

Elmarië gazed sadly out of her misted window. The weather had become cold and dull, with an icy wind sweeping the pallid sky. Five days it had been since she had returned home, and ever more greatly did she rue it. Her kin were - allegedly - glad to see her safe, and yet most of them held her to blame for causing them so much grief and public shame, and they bombarded her with an endless tirade of questions concerning her departure from Doriath. For fear of telling them falsehood, she resolved to tell them nothing at all, and whenever she was asked, ever more angrily, of her wanderings she immediately fell silent. This did nothing to improve the tempers of those who were furious with her, yet she endured their wrath, for the anger of her kin was not a matter foremost in her mind. Other sorrows there were, which cut far deeper into her broken heart. The announcement had once again been made that she would wed Lord Culdir. This was a devastating blow indeed to Elmarië. She might have predicted that her father's first move, upon her return, would probably be to arrange another marriage for her. Yet she had hoped the match might this time be more suitable. She had never seriously entertained the notion that Culdir would wish to make her his wife after she had so exquisitely spurned and humiliated him. Even now, it seemed to her that there was no sense in his decision to marry her.

Her father showed no remorse for his treatment of her; indeed he did not acknowledge it at all. Yet this was no particular surprise to Elmarië, for it had become swiftly evident that none knew of the events which took place on the night of her departure, save Imcair her brother (who was away upon an errand, as he generally was when his presence would have been useful). Elmarië missed him terribly, and she dwelt in aching loneliness.

She drew herself shakily to her feet. The house of her father was a grand place indeed. It was built of grey stone, and set upon a clearing amid the trees, not far from Menegroth. In this land the trees grew exceedingly tall, and Elmarië's chamber, which was upon the very highest storey of the great house, was amid the treetops. Though the forest did not seem so fair in Winter, and the grey, twisted branches of the trees reminded her of a writhing serpant, poised to spring. Elmarië shivered as she turned and swept from her chamber. She lithely descended the many flights of wide stone stairs, her blue mantle rippling about her like sunlit water, mirroring the gleam of her azure eyes. On her way, she passed her mother, who slowly climbed the cold steps with her head bowed.

'Good morning, mother,' Elmarië called softly. Amarwen looked up at her daughter, her blue eyes wide with shock, as though she had been disturbed from a deep dream. Amarwen smiled weakly, yet said nothing, and hurriedly began once more to climb, passing her daughter as she went. She was a fair lady, tall and slender, whose pale skin shimmered softly like starlit mist. Her sleek golden hair was pulled back from her face, and fell in glistening curls down her back. Elmarië turned and watched as Amarwen ascended the stairs with unwonted swiftness. It was as though she could not bear to be close to her daughter. Tears stung Elmarië's eyes. Ever since she could remember, her mother had been a subdued, melancholy sort of woman, easily startled and unusually sensitive; but the recent years had not been kind to her. She seemed almost to be wasting away; disintegrating into thin air by the day. She had always been a distant kind of presence in her children's lives - never cruel or unkind, but always remote; always elsewhere, somehow. Elmarië had, since childhood, received the vague impression that her mother didn't like her very much, such was Amarwen's cold and aloof manner towards her. These past days she had been almost completely ignored. And while common sense urged that her mother was merely punishing her for the grief and disgrace she had caused her kin, she could detect no hint of malice or ire in Amarwen's detatchment. It was almost as though her mother did not acknowledge her because she was essentially _unaware _of her; as though some vital part of her soul had fled. Amarwen, after all, paid no particular attention to any of her children; she wandered the halls of their house almost unseeing, and barely noticed a word spoken to her. However, a subtle shadow of unquiet had often crept into Amarwen's eyes, when she looked upon Elmarië. It was as though the very sight her eldest daughter unsettled her; though it was not immediately clear why this should be.

Elmarië remained upon the stairs for a time, as though frozen by her mother's wintry presence. Surely Amarwen would forgive her daughter, if she knew of what had befallen? The desire to betray her father's secret had never been so strong. It would be just to reveal the truth, she thought, and Imcair, when he returned, would surely verify her words. Yet would such a discovery not grieve her mother even further? Elmarie knew in her heart that it would. And supposing her father denied his misdeeds? Her testimony would undoubtedly be given less credence than his; as would Imcair's. Elmarië's elder brother was generally disapproved of by the folk of Doriath. His disdain for the social customs of the land, and his passion for wandering the wilds of Middle-Earth, had earned him the reputation of a young wastrel.

Tears welled up in Elmarië's tempestuous eyes. She had not wept since returning home, and yet a single unexpected tear found its way suddenly from her eye, and spilled upon her cheek. The emotions Elmarië had tried so furiously to bury, and had kept frozen within herself, were beginning to melt and pour forth as desolate tears. With an affort that shook her to her very core, she forced herself to descend the stairs once more, though this time at a slow, funereal pace, for her legs seemed stiff and reluctant to move. When she reached the foot of the stairs, she made her way swiftly through the echoing hall, her footfalls tapping frantically upon the hard ground as she broke suddenly into a run, such was her desperation to be gone. Passages and halls passed by like clouds of dour, muted grey; every wall was bare and unadorned. No carvings, tapestries or anything else which her father deemed frivolous were to disturb the sleeping, unbroken mass of grey. Elmarië sped like a flash of blue lightning past Nevalda, her young sister, and a number of astonished servants, pushing one or two aside in her haste.

'There is to be no running in the hallway, mistress Elmarië!' Cried the housekeeper indignantly. 'Your father would not be pleased to learn of this!'

Elmarië paid no heed, as she tore down the stairs which led to the front entrance, her hair streaming behind her like a smear of dark disarray. She paused only to haul open the large stone door, which she slammed heavily behind her. Much to her satisfaction, she heard the crash echo and resound throughout the silent halls of her house. No doubt, all would be displeased with her when she at last returned, yet she gave no thought to such things, and rushed swiftly into the grey forest. Not until she was far from home did she halt, by which time she was breathless and weary. She sat slumped upon the ground beside the banks of the Esgalduin, gazing sadly into the shimmering water, and listening to its gentle, poignant song. She longed to depart from this land, as swiftly as did the foaming water, yet she had attempted to walk that path once before, and it had simply increased her difficulties.

Only now did Elmarië realise how greatly she had miscalculated her own resolve that night, many weeks ago, when she had fled into the forest in order to escape her fate. She had been so fearless that night; so secure in her belief that she was running headlong towards her salvation. And yet here she was, as desperate and forlorn as ever. She knew now that she had not the courage or fortitude to face the wilds alone - nothing could have prepared her for the loneliness, the fear that had burned in her heart, when she had thought herself lost and helpless in the wilderness.

She could not leave again, and must tread the path which had been set before her feet. That path held nothing but misery, stretching on forever even unto the ending of the world. Her bitter tears fell softly into the river, her anguish at one with that of the grey, rolling water. Her grief was as fathomless as the river itself, of which her own tears were now a part.

The pale morning drew on, and Elmarië became cold and silent, gazing into the clear water as it mirrored the overcast depths of the frozen sky, whilst her sparkling tears made their melancholic way to the pathless sea.

'Lady Elmarië!' Came a sudden voice from behind her. She turned sharply, fearing lest she had been followed by a confounded servant. She opened her mouth ready to make a dismissive remark to whomsoever stood there, but was shocked for a moment into silence. Before her stood Nurram.

'Are you well, Lady?' He asked gently, and knelt beside her. She scoffed bitterly, and made no effort to conceal her tears.

'In truth, I am not. Things are indeed more ill then ever I deemed possible!'

'I hear that you are to wed Lord Culdir in but three days.' He said quietly, avoiding her gaze.

'How did you know know of that?' She asked abruptly, anger surging darkly beneath her voice.

'Well, it is -' he replied brokenly. 'It is now common knowledge, that you shall wed him.'

'That I had guessed!' She snapped, her eyes gleaming perilously. 'And yet only this morn did I learn of it! It is to take place in three days, you say? Naught of that was I told! Ill news indeed travels upon swift wings! Or is it merely that all the world knew of my wedding ere I did?'

'I...I know not Lady!' Stammered Nurram, his fair blue eyes gleaming fitfully. 'Forgive me if I have displeased you!'

'You are not to blame.' Elmarië uttered sadly, realising that she was venting her anger on quite the wrong person. 'It is all my father's doing.'

'Is there aught you would have me do?' He asked, smiling kindly. A ghost of a smile touched even the face of Elmarie as she looked upon Nurram.

'Take me away from this place!' She laughed sadly, and though she spoke in jest, her eyes were plaintive.

'Once before, you have fled this realm,' he argued. 'And to what avail? In any case, your kin would not forgive you a second time.' His eyes were hidden for a second, as a golden curl of his hair fell across his face, disturbed by a gust of ragged wind.

'You do not understand,' she cried mournfully. 'I have been a fool and I know it! Yet I swear upon my very soul that if I were to leave Doriath a second time, I should never return all my life long! I know not what I hoped for. The prospect of returning home seemed so much more palatable when I lay alone in the wilds, friendless and lost. In any case, I had scarcely anticipated that Lord Culdir would have had any desire to wed me still. I hoped perhaps that my kin would be joyous at my return, not merely enraged, and more damning of me than ever. Selfish, they called me, and thoughtless. Yet they know me not at all! I have commited crimes, Nurram, and I know it well - in sooth I have done little else! Yet none of my deeds were thoughtless, without remorse. And who are my kin to judge me? It seems almost that they care not. They claim that I am foolish, and do not know what is best for me. It is true, perhaps, that all my choices have run ill of late. I believe it is because I truly do not know what I desire. All I am certain of is that I do not wish to live forever as a slave, caged between walls of stone. I shall try to abide by the wishes of my kin, and yet I know that I cannot! Without freedom to do as I will, my heart yeans only for death, and I long even now to cast myself into the fury of the river.'

'Do you ask for my aid, Lady?' Nurram questioned softly. Elmarië turned to him, and saw an odd gleam of conflict within his eyes, which she had never discerned in him before. It made her uneasy. Yet the word _aid_ resounded within her mind, and it seemed suddenly that Nurram was her only hope.

'I would gladly recieve your aid, if it would save me from this plight!' She said hurriedly, her lip trembling.

'Then I shall help you to escape,' He said. 'Yet I know that you cannot survive alone in the wilds, therefore I too shall depart. I can guard you, if you wish. We could settle somewhere, far from here.' Anguish seemed to burn like a cold flame within his eyes.

'I cannot tell you how grateful I am!' She exclaimed, and embraced him tightly, almost weeping with relief. He ran his fingers through her soft black hair, and closed his eyes. When she drew away and beheld his troubled expression, Elmarie was quite startled.

'What is the matter?' She asked with concern.

'It is nothing.' He replied simply, though his voice belied him.

'Do you not wish to leave Doriath?' She asked quickly, bowing her head a little. 'Have you any kin here?'

'I was orphaned as an infant, Lady. Indeed I have no one, nothing to keep me here,' he said, looking up at the sky. 'And I wish only to be with you.' Elmarie gazed upon him, and her face was grave, yet she said nothing of the shadow which crossed her heart at these words.

'I must go,' he said, hauling himself suddenly to his feet. 'For there are preperations to be made. Once again, Lady, you must needs depart upon the very Eve of your marriage, for I can be ready no sooner.'

'Very well, so long as we are long gone by morning.'

'So we shall be,' he murmured. 'Until that night, meet me here each day at noon, and I shall share with you my plans. Farewell.' He turned, and was gone within seconds.

As he strode away from Elmarie, leaving her beside the surging water, Nurram could not control the tears of pain and remorse which poured from his eyes. He passed into the sombre shadows of the trees, all his tortured thoughts merging together into one stricken sentence, which soon became a familiar refrain echoing throughout his soul.

_'May Eru forgive me, for what I have done.'_


	21. Unquiet Hearts

A/N - Many thanks to you for the review there, Jules14! The support is much appreciated!  
Last Temptation/Battling Bard (the name change threw me a bit for a minute) - thank you again! I'm afraid this chapter's fairly uneventful also, but it should improve from here on in!

Chapter 20 – Unquiet Hearts

A thick, vivid darkness gathered upon Doriath. The shades of midnight swirled murkily about the trees, which reared up into the sky like twisting shadows, blacker than the gloom itself. No gleam of star or moon embellished the oblivious heavens, as though the white starlight had been asphyxiated by a colossal fist of darkness.

No such blinding shadow had Thaliondil ever known, or imagined, as he sat shivering upon the cold ground. His grey eyes rose to the chasm of emptiness, which hung huge and ravenous above him. He wrapped his arms about his chest. His heavy breath broke through the mute stillness, and he closed his eyes wearily. He would rest tonight, and continue his wandering when the sun awoke.

The darkness was somehow a part of him; as though the shadows which stalked the landscape of his mind had seeped from within him into the world about, staining it blacker as hatred. Never in all his life had he felt so alone, yet who could he truly hold accountable for his isolation, save himself? He had gone forth from Menegroth, upon the very afternoon of his arrival there, leaving no word or sign of his intentions. Why had he done such a thing? He was unsure; yet after all these weeks of wandering the wilds, he had felt strangely trapped by the stone walls of his chamber, like a caged animal. The free air, and the silence, and the darkness had beckoned him, and he had followed its call.

The events of the past few weeks rose constantly before his blinded eyes, as though anguish had etched them indelibly into his memory. With only the emptiness before him there was nothing to separate him from the past; nothing else to focus upon. Yet this was, in a way, what he had desired. He had needed time alone with his grief. He had never been sensitive by nature, and any sorrow in his life he had simply endured without question. Even the death of his mother had not broken him, and had simply made him more cold and solemn than he had been before. Yet never had he been faced with such horror as this. He closed his eyes, yet his view of the unbroken darkness remained the same.

Thaliondil breathed deeply. Though his heart was heavy, he had come to his senses once more. For days he had been alone, cloaked in a strange dizzy confusion which, in hindsight, he half-suspected to be the first stirrings of madness. Yet now he was slowly making his way back to Menegroth, for with a sudden pang of remorse he remembered Tinuial. Why had he not bade her farewell? Surely she was the only one left in all the world who cared for him. His dear sister, who grew and changed so swiftly, while he remained ever the same. Days had passed since his departure, though he knew not how many, and Tinuial would surely fear by now that he had abandoned her, or perished. Yet by his reckoning he was not now far from the halls of Thingol, and would probably arrive there upon the following day. With these thoughts in mind, and many others, he drifted slowly into a dark, empty sleep.

Thaliondil stirred, and lifted his stony gaze to the awakening heavens. The ashen sun rose swiftly, as though riding upon the fitful wind, which fluttered upon the air in torn fragments, ripping at the white feathery clouds. The shuddering breeze chilled him to the bone, and with a fierce effort, he hauled himself to his feet shivering violently. He rubbed at his tired eyes, and grimaced at the sky. His neck ached as he turned his head, trying to remember in which direction Menegroth lay. At last, he started off to the North, the grey, imposing trees obscuring him from the rays of the uncomfortable dawn. He made his way sullenly towards Menegroth, his path winding amid the trees.

The day progressed hesitantly, and though it was now an hour past noon the sun remained pale and deathly, doing little to warm or brighten the watery sky. Of a sudden, Thaliondil was startled out of his gloomy thoughts by the sudden appearance of a figure before him, advancing swiftly from the darkness of the trees. He jumped violently, and the figure froze. It was the form of a man, who stood tall and unmoving, the high branches of the trees casting shadows about him, and veiling his face. The gleam of blue eyes shot through the gloom like icy steel. There was something familiar about his countenance, and though he stood only a few feet away, he could barely be seen. Thaliondil was unnerved, such as he had rarely been before, and had his pride allowed it he may have turned and fled. Unwilling to betray his apprehension, however, he strode immediately forward and stood directly before the silent man. It was Nurram. Thaliondil sighed, and wondered vaguely why he had been so disturbed.

'My friend!' Nurram declared in a slightly uncertain tone, as though his speech was forced. 'Whither do you go?'

'I now return to Menegroth.' Thaliondil replied haltingly, gazing suspiciously at Nurram.

'You are perhaps lost?' Nurram asked, smiling awkwardly. 'I can lead you to the halls if you so wish, for you may not easily gain entry if you are not accompanied by a guard or huntsmen. The King's Guards are wary indeed, and if they do not recognise you...' He trailed off slowly, and shot Thaliondil a questioning glance. Thaliondil frowned, a little confused.

'I would be most grateful if you would lead me to the gates,' he affirmed in a low voice. 'Unless you have more pressing business to attend to?'

'I have not,' Nurram replied simply. He smiled, yet a strange gleam of sorrow lurked behind his bright eyes, and Thaliondil was now utterly bemused.

Gloaming seeped from the dusky sky, and the frowning clouds deepened as they glared down at the sombre earth. Yet all was bright and fair in the halls of Menegroth, and a gentle music floated upon the glistening air like a soft, sighing breeze. Thaliondil stalked through the passages, puzzling silently over the odd behaviour of Nurram. On their journey to Menegroth, he had barely spoken a word, save to bid Thaliondil farewell when they reached the gate, which was most out of character. He had indeed been far more talkative on their previous travels, as Thaliondil recalled all too clearly, having found him distinctly irritating. And had it been purely his imagination, or had Nurram's eyes brimmed with sparkling tears on several occasions, as though he endlessly fought the overwhelming urge to weep?

'Thaliondil!' Cried a sudden voice from behind him. Thaliondil wheeled round, and found himself face to face with Carnil. He did not reply, but stood mute and sullen as Carnil regarded him angrily with his gleaming green eyes.

'Where have you been?' Carnil demanded forcefully, glaring directly at him. His face was cast slightly downward, for though mortal, he was the taller of the two by several inches, and a great deal more muscular; whereas Thaliondil was wiry and lithe, almost feeble in comparison. As though acutely aware of this, the Elf drew himself up to his full height, and glared.

'It is none of your concern.' Thaliondil answered coldly, his dauntless eyes as impenetrable as ever. He turned to leave, but Carnil would not allow him to escape so easily. He seized Thaliondil's shoulder, and hauled him back, dragging him round to face him once more. Thaliondil was weary and did not resist, yet the scorn with which he glared at the mortal was quite startling, and Carnil hesitated a moment in the face of such unmitigated abhorrence. In truth, Thaliondil harboured no particular loathing against Carnil, yet his old fury had begun to well up within him. When such a fell mood was upon him, he hated all the world, and each one of those who dwelt therein. Yet most of all, he hated himself.

'I do not comprehend your rage,' Carnil said in a slightly stricken voice. 'Yet no matter; if you wish to despise me then it is your own affair, though I maintain that in no way have I wronged you. I care not what you think of me – and for that matter, I think not highly of you either – yet I shall not allow you to distress Tinuial any further! Do you not care for her at all? Did you not think she would be distraught at your disappearance? Almost a week you have been gone, and not a single thought did you give her!' His voice grew steadily harsher, until he was almost shouting. Thaliondil made no reply, and shifted his gaze to the gleaming floor, unwilling to endure the accusation in Carnil's eyes. He was right, of course, though Thaliondil did not plan to admit it. He gritted his teeth in rage. Yet all his burning fury was focused inwards, upon himself. The sheer intensity of his emotion robbed him of speech.

'What say you?' Carnil cried, seeing the hate within Thaliondil's eyes.

'There is perhaps nothing to be said.' Thaliondil answered thickly.

'You must go to your sister at once!' Carnil exclaimed fiercely, now quite exasperated. He wondered at the fact that Thaliondil, after such reckless and uncaring behaviour, would dare to treat him with such contempt. Yet more than aught else, he was appalled by the extent of Tinuial's sorrow when she had believed Thaliondil to be dead. Thaliondil truly was dear to her. Foster-brother though he was, Carnil barely understood how she could feel such fondness for the foul Elf. He himself would not grieve were he never again to set eyes upon Thaliondil, but for Tinuial's sake.

'I cannot meet with my sister tonight,' Thaliondil insisted obstinately. 'I must rest.' He turned and withdrew from Carnil.

'And what would you have me tell her?' Carnil demanded at Thaliondil's retreating back. 'That you are alive and quite well, and yet you refuse to see her! Little will that do to comfort her!' Yet he allowed the Elf to depart, and made no move to follow him. It was probably wise, he decided, that Thaliondil did _not _visit Tinuial in his current mood. He sighed wearily, and turned away.


	22. The Agony of the Interrupted

A/N - Ohh, there's badness afoot...ohh yes; I'm wheeling that barrow down the furrow of cliche, ha _haa_! (and Battling Bard, I can't thank you enough for your kind comments and support!)

Chapter 21 - The Agony of the Interrupted

'Why did you leave me, Thaliondil? Why did you leave?' Tinuial exclaimed angrily, hysteria thrumming beneath her voice. 'I thought you'd left me, or been _killed_!'

It was late morning, and the thin, pale sunlight spilled in through the window of Tinuial's chamber, making the gold-flecked walls glimmer faintly. Thaliondil had at last come to visit her, and she held him fiercely in her arms, angry tears burgeoning from her eyes.

'I'm sorry,' he apologised quietly, returning her embrace more gently and staring through the window past her shoulder. His eyes were fixed upon the blanched heavens, and the swaying branches of the trees.

'I would forgive you, if only you would give me some word of explanation!' She drew away, her gaze fixed steadily upon him.

'I was not myself, when I departed from Menegroth,' he said slowly, looking tenderly into her eyes. 'It was not my intention to cause you pain, I simply needed to be alone,'

'You think of no one but yourself!' Tinuial exclaimed, yet though her words were reproachful, her voice had softened a little, and held no true malice or rage.

'I'm sorry,' he repeated, his eyes cast to the smooth, immaculate floor. What more could he say? There were no words to contain his pain or regret. His eyes were full of bitter tears, yet he would not allow them to fall, or break free. If he began to weep, he would surely be unable to stop.

'What is in your mind, brother?' Tinuial breathed.

'It seems to me sometimes, that all the world wheels and flows about me, changing and altering itself swifter than the blossoming of the morning sun,' he said distantly, and Tinuial frowned slightly in confusion a she gazed intently into his eyes. 'Yet after a few precious moments, the flicker of dawn is gone. Naught can remain forever the same, and no joy however tightly you grasp it can endure unmarred. Such has been my life! All that I hold dear has been torn from me.' He could not tell his sister the thing that lay at the core of his suffering; could not bear to utter the words aloud, even to himself.

'Do you long to return to Nargothrond?' Tinuial asked solemnly, 'I see that you grieve for that which is lost.'

'Were I to return, I should be no happier,' he said slowly. 'If it were possible, I would dwell in the past. Ere father cast aside his life. When mother was with us still; before Annariel died. Before I-' he fell silent, unable to continue.

'When were you ever truly happy, my brother? I cannot remember a time,' she answered truthfully.

'Nay, perhaps you are right,' he answered with the tiniest smile. 'I had no notion of how blessed I was, then.'

'Our lives shall never again be as they once were,' Tinuial replied at length. 'Yet is that truly a cause for sorrow? I am now happier than I have ever been. Here in Menegroth lies our chance for joy. In time the grief will pass, for all is glad and mirthful here. We shall be merry once more!'

Thaliondil lifted his head, and turned his grey, piercing gaze to his sister. The shadow of a smile passed across his face. He hid his grief from her as well as he could, as he bade her farewell. He then once again departed from the bright halls of Menegroth, promising Tinuial faithfully that he would return by nightfall.

Elmarië ran lightly through the forest, her path winding amid the glowering trees. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hot breath billowed upon the frozen air, rising like a thin smoke about her. She now returned home, after her noon meeting with Nurram. The pale sun descended sadly, like a distant jewel wrenched from the sky by the compelling winds which tore mercilessly at the dismal grey earth. All was now arranged. She was to meet with Nurram beside the River at midnight, and they would flee together by secret paths that he alone knew. She wondered much that Nurram would tarry in Doriath so long, and feared that they would not escape pursuit, yet he had promised her wistfully that none would follow them. Elmarië was not now far from her home, and its dull, high roof came now into view in the distance – like a stone raft amid a sea of gloomy grey treetops. She would not be sorry to leave this place. Since she had returned, many of her kin had treated her with cold contempt, and little else. Her mother could scarcely look her in the eyes, and her father had been even less bearable than usual – he would not speak, save to bark abrupt orders or denunciations at any member of his family foolish enough to approach him. Elmarië's sisters were terrified of him when he was in such a mood, yet promptly held Elmarië to blame for his annoyance, as it was she who had defied him so. Her brother Imcair was the only one who might have defended her, for he loved her dearly; yet he could not be relied upon. Still he had not returned. Elmarië scowled frostily, and gritted her teeth as she sped swiftly through the maze of trees. How foolish she had been to even hope that her kin would welcome her with open arms, for she was a rebel – a disgrace. They would perhaps forgive her in time, if she were to do all they bade her, and feigned to be the gentle, sweet daughter they had seemingly always wished for. The injustice of it smote her heart like a spear of ice, that her own family would only accept her if she denied herself.

Without any warning, Elmarië ran headlong into the solid figure of a man, who stood like a phantom of stone amid the trees, staring into the heavens. He barely moved as she crashed into him, and slowly turned to face her.

'I am sorry,' she breathed hurriedly. 'I…' she broke off in surprise as she identified him. Thaliondil. 'What are _you _doing here?' She asked, a little rudely. He paused, and scrutinised her face coldly.

'Leave me alone,' he replied bluntly. She glared at him witheringly, inwardly overwhelmed by the sudden and turbulent urge to weep. Countless retorts echoed through her mind, yet she could not bring herself to fight, even with Thaliondil. She stood frozen before him, fighting the obstinate tears which clung like beads of silver dew to her blue eyes. It was as though her mask of frosty disdain was starting to crack. Her lip began to tremble. Cursing herself for such a display of weakness, she turned and shambled off into the shadows, as the tears began to fall.

Never had Elmarië felt such surprise, and curious relief, as when she felt a hand upon her shoulder. She knew it was Thaliondil. His touch was stern and warm, and seemed to draw the chill from her flesh. She turned slowly, and the grip of his fingers lessened. His hand dropped to his side.

'What is it?'' She demanded. Stringing three such simple words together had never seemed such a trying task.

'Forgive me,' he replied brokenly, 'if in the past I have treated you with little respect. You have done nothing to deserve my scorn, Lady.' Elmarië was entirely taken aback. Yet the hinted reverence, almost awe with which he enunciated the word _Lady_ made rage suddenly return to her heart in full force. Her eyes blazed.

'I am no fool!' She cried. 'And not in the least do you regret your behaviour!'

'Do you doubt me?' He asked dangerously.

'Had you tried to make amends ere you discovered that I was a noble Lady of this Realm, I should not have doubted you,' she exclaimed, letting all her accumulated rage spill into her words. 'When you thought me an insignificant maiden you gave no thought to me, yet now you realise that with one word to the King I could have you banished, even killed!'

'I did not realise that merely disliking a foolish wench was punishable by death!' He retorted with his familiar venom.

'I am of the kin of Thingol!' she shouted, her eyes livid with anger and indignation. 'And whatever I were to accuse you of, my word would not be questioned!'

'I do not fear you, no matter how high you deem yourself.' His sharp eyes glinted.

'Whatever I may be, I am above you.' And the bitterness with which she regarded him almost made him flinch. Thaliondil felt his fury growing. All his wrath, sorrow and dreadful longing rose uncontrollably. He seized Elmarië's shoulders, drew her close, and violently kissed her. She did not resist, and her eyes slowly closed as their lips met. In that moment, that tiny, intense splinter of time, her heart and soul seemed to shift within her. Their petty arguments no longer mattered – the world itself seemed no longer there. Or else it had simply lost all significance. All that mattered was that beautiful, acute, soul-rending kiss.

'I'm sorry.' Thaliondil said sheepishly, backing away, and releasing her from his grasp. She gazed at him, stunned. Yet they were shocked out of deep, absolute silence by a sudden noise. A young elf maiden who stood only several paces from them cleared her throat, and eyed the two of them smugly. Both Thaliondil and Elmarië turned to her with a jolt. The girl had light golden hair like a feathery cloud about her small, sweet face, and her red lips were curled into a slight smile.

'Lheina!' Elmarië snapped. 'Be gone!'

'Father would not be pleased to learn of this,' Lheina's large blue eyes glittered as she regarded Thaliondil with patent interest.

'Be _gone_, I say!' Elmarië screamed at her sister.

'It would not bode well for you, if I were to betray this secret!' Lheina teased gleefully. In truth she had no intention of telling her father of what she had witnessed, yet the expression upon her sister's face was so amusing. Her eyes rested chiefly upon Thaliondil, however, who gazed at her still in quiet shock.

'Breathe a word of this, and you shall regret it!' Elmarië returned.

'As you wish, my dearest sister,' she declared sweetly. 'Yet you had best be wary. In the morning you are to wed Lord Culdir, in case you had forgotten, and I doubt he would take gladly to such - antics - as these.' Thaliondil turned to Elmarië with quiet horror upon his face. Elmarië winced. He did not know. He shook his head slightly, and pushed his black hair from his eyes, entirely at a loss. Elmarië wanted to tell him of her plan, her secret. Yet she could not disclose even the smallest snippet of information whilst Lheina stood there. Without bidding them farewell, Thaliondil turned abruptly and stalked off, his absence leaving a gaping chasm in Elmarië's heart, which no amount of tears could fill. She glared contemptuously at Lheina, focusing all her silent inner loathing upon her young sister. Lheina seemed not to notice, and stared unblinking at the empty space Thaliondil had left.


	23. A Betrayal

Bard – sorry it's been so long!!! Don't worry, I haven't given up on the fic, I've just been horrifically busy!

Chapter 22 – A Betrayal

The startling black heavens opened out before Elmarië's eyes as she marched into the night. It was as though the daylight had been torn asunder, leaving a stark, gaping void in its wake. She felt again a shadow of the helplessness she had experienced as she had watched Thaliondil's retreating form disappear into the gloom, taking with him her one chance for true happiness. She now decided coldly that she would never be happy; that joy was unattainable. Yet in place of contentment, she would have revenge. Once more she would evade the chains of marriage, and in so doing defy them all. And this time, she would never go back. Nurram would keep her from harm, and there would be no need for her to return home in shame and disgrace, like a foolish and wayward child. Her will could not be broken; not this time. Her father could rant and rage as much as he wished, yet she would no longer be present to hear him.

A chilling rain began to pour steadily from the heavens, and clung to her black hair as she made her way towards the River. A skeletal moon contemplated the dark earth, and made the airborne torrent of rain shimmer like the kindled ashes of stars. Her eyes misted with rain and tears, Elmarië came at last to the River Esgalduin. The ethereal light struck its bubbling surface, and the sweet sighing of the eddying water seemed to float upon the air like a fine sea-mist. The rock beneath her feet was smooth and slick with rain as she crept uncertainly towards the dark figure standing upon the very edge of the stone river bank, watching the dancing water. He was tall - cloaked and hooded in black, and did not stir as she approached. She placed her shaking hand upon his shoulder. Fast as a coiling snake, the man turned and seized both her arms roughly with cold, uncompromising hands. Sharply, he pulled her close to his hooded face, until Elmarië felt his warm breath upon her cheek. She gasped, as horror and disbelief tore at her heart. It was Culdir.

'What have we here?' He mocked coldly, pale blue eyes glimmering faintly. Elmarië did not reply. Realising suddenly how close to the water's edge Culdir held her, she tried to break free. Yet her limbs were stiff with terror, and her weak attempt of escape only made him laugh sneeringly.

'No, my love. This time you shall not resist me.' A lock of his red, flaming hair fell across his eye like a gleaming strand of fire. Elmarië now wept anew, and her tears made the moonlight splinter like the remains of a fractured mirror before her eyes. This simply could not be happening.

'I beg you to release me! Do not keep me here against my will,' even as she spoke the words, she knew that they were futile. 'Why would you wish to possess me?'

'Why, indeed!' He scoffed. 'For no woman is worth such trouble as you have given me!'

'Then let me be gone!' she pleaded. 'I would make for you a terrible wife!'

'There you are wrong, my dear,' he replied, in a soft, menacing tone. 'I would like nothing better than to make you my own. You stand now before me so proud and adamant, yet I will win this battle, you may be sure!' As though to prove his superiority he slapped her across the face, his hand cold and unyielding as stone. She did not flinch, though her cheek stung with the force of the blow.

'You shall never break me,' she said quietly, her rage returning and emanating through her sharp eyes.

'Nay, my love. I do not intend to break you! I merely desire to _tame_ you, by any means necessary. You are not as mighty as you deem.' Elmarië looked him in the eyes. Her tears had subsided, and her wrath grew. Yet she remained silent.

'Come,' he ordered. 'I tire of this place. And you are in need of rest - an important day is before you.' His sharp features momentarily caught the moonlight as he turned and strode into the shadows of the trees, dragging Elmarië behind him.

Endless rain beat in shafts of driven fury against the small misted window. The frosty moon was setting, and its dying radiance poured into the small chamber, illuminating Elmarië's pale face where she sat huddled upon the floor. She was in the house of Culdir. The walls of this room had been adorned by rich tapestries, yet in her rage she had torn them down. She gazed numbly at where they lay forlorn and limp upon the carpeted floor. In spite of everything, she realised bleakly preferred this house to her father's. It was less grand and imposing - less cold. It was perhaps decorated in a rather ostentatious manner, with finery and jewels festooned all about as though there was not enough space in this vast house to contain the wealth of its master. Yet somehow, it was more of a home.

Elmarië drew herself to her feet, and once more struggled with the catch upon the fine wooden door, yet it was no use. It clearly did not open from within. Her throat was dry, for she had screamed and pleaded for help for over an hour. No one had come. She had now calmed, and slumped despondently upon the floor, her back to the wall. How had Culdir learned of her escape? He might have guessed, she supposed, yet how had he known the exact time and place to await her? Chance had not brought him to the River at midnight. And where was Nurram? Perhaps Culdir had somehow espied their meetings. He might possibly have had her watched, fearing lest she might attempt to escape a second time. Elmarië wondered whether her father knew aught of this. Despite her anguish, and her many unanswered questions, she was utterly exhausted, and collapsing upon the ground she lay drifting upon the brink of sleep, her turmoil preventing her from being fully immersed in the numb, comforting abyss of forgetfulness.

A sharp knock at the door made her sit up straight. She dragged herself to her weary feet as the door heaved open, and Culdir entered the room. Thin light from the corridor beyond spilled into the darkness of the chamber, and Elmarië glared at the satisfied face of her future husband. He stood before her, looking down at her white, obstinate face.

'The time has come,' he said. 'Dawn approaches, and there is much to do.' Elmarië did not reply, but glared at him fiercely, her arms folded across her chest.

'My servants shall soon attend to you,' he continued. 'The entire kingdom shall turn its eyes towards you today, and you must be made beautiful.' He brushed her cheek with his cold hand. His touch made her skin crawl, and she made a conscious effort not to recoil - she would let him see what an effect he was having upon her. Neither would she speak. There was another knock upon the slightly open door, and Culdir smiled softly. He took a smooth step backwards, and glanced at the figure upon the other side of the door, beckoning for the stranger to enter.

'There is one whom I would have you meet,' he said, smiling, gesturing toward the Elf who entered the dark room. 'My most trusted servant.' Elmarië made no effort to conceal her dismay as she recognised Nurram.

'I have other matters to attend to,' Culdir declared simply. 'Nurram - take her to her chamber. The maidens await her there.' With a hurried glance at Elmarië, Culdir turned and departed from the chamber, leaving her alone with Nurram.

'Come,' Nurram took her arm, and tried to pull her towards the door.

'Do not touch me!' Elmarië screamed, struggling from his grasp. Nurram looked her in the eyes for the first time. His sorrow was plain to see.

'Please, lady. It would be easier for us both if you would do as you are bid.' Elmarië glared at him with scorn.

'How could you!' She raged, her limbs frozen by fury and horror. 'I placed my trust in you! And only deceit have you given me in return!'

'Do not hate me.' He pleaded, 'Do you not see that this is for your own benefit? You have dwelt in the wild for a time, and surely you realise that such an existence is not for you.' This was a feeble excuse for his actions, and he knew it. He avoided her penetrating gaze.

'I could live anywhere, if the one I loved remained by my side! Then it would no longer matter whether I dwelt in comfort or not! We could have been happy, Nurram! We could have made for ourselves a home, somewhere new!' She pleaded with him desperately, seeing that he wavered in his decision.

'You lie, my Lady. You love me not - it was convenient indeed for you to deceive me, yet I am no fool.' He said at last, his lip trembling.

'Is that reason to betray me, and sentence me to a life of misery?' She exclaimed bitterly, and he winced at her harsh tone. 'Do you not care for me at all, Nurram? But of course you do not, or you would not have done this deed.'

'I did it simply _because_ I care!' He exclaimed suddenly, his abrupt vehemence taking Elmarië by surprise, 'I could not allow you to leave your home; it would be unfair. Yet I shall ever be beside you, my Lady. My master bade me watch over you, and so I have done. You do not know perhaps, how much I owe the Lord Culdir. He is the closest I have ever had to a father. He gave me food and shelter when my home and kin were destroyed, and I a refugee of war, with no other hope. He set me to work as his servant, and in time he bestowed his implicit trust upon me. You do not know him as I, but believe me when I say that his faith is rarely given, thus from such a man it is a gift like no other. I think, Lady, that he loves me in his way, even as a son. I would be a liar, if I called him the kindest of masters, perhaps, yet all the meagre kindness my life has known has been through him. Where can my allegiance lie, if not with him?'

'Do you not love me, Nurram?' Elmarië's eyes were wide and imploring. Nurram shook as though with anger, and his face seemed changed. He looked for a moment haggard and deadly.

'I think that I do. Yet you are bound in love to another, I see it in your eyes even now. You love me not, and wish only to use me to escape your doom!' He raged suddenly, and a flash of malice she would have deemed him incapable of now burned in his eyes. Elmarië was shocked.

'You shall never be mine!' He screamed, his eyes gleaming. 'Even were I to aid you, your love would be withheld from me.'

'In this you are correct - I love you not at all! For you have proved yourself to be a treacherous snake! I shall never forgive you.' Nurram looked suddenly as though he were in physical pain.

'If I am treacherous, Lady, then what of you? Love is no weapon with which to strike a man's heart, to cozen and kill! It cannot be cast aside when it serves you no longer! Never have I beheld a maid thus false!' He shouted, voicing his pain. His eyes were alive with rage, and his breathing was feverish and frantic.

'You are mad!' Elmarië exclaimed. 'And I do not comprehend your mind! If you did not wish to help me, then you might have simply refused. Rather that than decieve me! Is it vengeance that drives you? Are you angered because you believe that I love you not?' Nurram's previously gentle, kind manner had vanished without a trace. He seemed now like another person altogether, and Elmarië wondered suddenly whether she was in danger. Nurram fell suddenly to his knees before her, clasping her hands tightly.

'My life is yours,' he said shakily. 'You are part of my very breath.'

'Then do as I bid, and help me to escape, ere it is too late,' She cried shrilly.

'It is already too late,' he rose, took her arm, and drew her to the door. 'I must follow my master's orders.' Elmarie tried to pull away from him, but he simply grasped her more tightly.

'I do not wish to force you Lady, yet if you struggle I shall have no choice.' In silence, Elmarie allowed herself to be led helplessly through the winding corridors of the grand house, to the chamber where she was to be made ready for her wedding. They halted at the open door, and Nurram gazed into the distance, his eyes blank and his face expressionless.

'I would have been yours, Nurram,' she whimpered, in a last desperate attempt to make him reconsider. 'Yours forever.'

'Forgive me,' he whispered, pushing her sharply into the chamber.


	24. A Bitter Union

A/N – I know its been ages since the last update, but I've had serious internet issues!!! All sorted now though, and there are more chapters in the pipeline!

Chapter 23 – a Bitter Union

A cool, brisk morning surged across the realm of Doriath. Vestiges of rain from the previous night clung in drifting silver webs to the trees and the forest floor, winking faintly in the watery sunlight. The Hall of Thingol and Melian swarmed with a heavy, mellow glow; as though a veil of lucid golden radiance adorned the very air, wafting in the infinitesimal breeze of the Nightingales' flight. Tinuial gazed at her surroundings in awe, taking great pains not to crush the star-like flowers strewn in splashes and gusts of vivid colour upon the gleaming floor. No doubt the Elves of Doriath had granted her a high honour indeed, in inviting her to the marriage of two such very important people; but she could not dismiss the cold anxiety squirming horribly in her stomach. This was a place of such dignity and splendour, and she was in the company of so many fair and regal Elves of Doriath. Her own origins were so humble by comparison, and her manners so crude. She pictured herself as an unsightly blot upon the fabulous landscape; a plain and ill-formed creature in amid her dazzling and sophisticated company.

Carnil stood beside her in silence, clasping her hand. From the harried expression contorting his features, Tinuial perceived that he felt equally out of place. Thaliondil was cryptic as ever, standing blank and stolid, akin in mood and appearance to the cold stone floor beneath him. Tinuial drew her eyes away from her sullen brother and glanced up towards Thingol and Melian. The King and Queen sat enthroned before the glistening multitude like towering icons of splendour – clear and vivid mirrors into the arcane mind of Eru. Their faces were radiant as the noon sun, and impenetrable as the night.

Tearing her overwhelmed eyes from the majesty of the King and Queen, Tinuial surveyed the luminous crowd gathered within the hall. One small group in particular caught her eye. They stood by the base of Thingol's throne, a little apart from the general congregation, and Tinuial realised that they were most likely to be Elmarië's kin. At the forefront stood a tall, skeletal woman with her bone-pale golden hair scraped back harshly from her gaunt and stately face. She was beautiful to look upon, though pale to the point of ghostliness, and her high and barren cheekbones gave her an austere appearance. Her large, sad eyes were a wondrous blue; and some quality within her wide and unfocused gaze put Tinuial immediately in mind of Elmarië. Though she knew not, Tinuial guessed that this was the Lady Amarwen, Elmarië's mother. If so, then the imposing man at her side was Elmarië's father, Lord Ellos. His taut, distinguished countenance was impassive and grave. His mighty fists were clenched as if with rage or tension, though his calm mask-like face betrayed no external sign of agitation. Three young Elven maids stood a little behind them - Elmarië's younger sisters. Two of them were little more than children, and appeared to be twins, their hair in tight brown braids. The other maiden was slightly older, with hair of pale gold much like her mother's, and blue glittering eyes. She gazed about the hall with an impish grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Thaliondil had, of course, noticed Lheina staring at him, yet he would not yield to her sprightly eyes. What could she possibly want of him? Foolish child. She had wreaked havoc enough already, with her prying and her deliberate provocation. A fine thread of outrage pulsed interminably through his veins, magnified by his heart's every beat. Yet he had learned not to resist that flood of fury, that tide of bitterness – it was all that held him together. He closed his eyes, and a vision of Elmarië blossomed within his mind, slicing through his darkness until he could neither see nor imagine anything else. His hands shook with a nameless wrath.

Though it factored seldom in his thoughts, he was vaguely aware that Tinuial and Carnil were becoming increasingly annoyed at him. Since his return to Menegroth the previous evening he had been distant and rude, particularly towards Carnil. Thaliondil now gave very little thought to his own words or deeds, barely noticing that neither of his companions had spoken to him all morning. He was utterly consumed by his longing for Elmarië, and by the fact that he was to stand there, watching powerlessly whilst she wedded another man. He almost laughed out loud at the hideous irony of his situation. He opened his eyes, longing unbearably to be close to her.

As though his wish had been granted, Elmarië appeared suddenly and poignantly before him. Yet this was no fantasy of his tortured mind; for she who haunted his every waking thought was now being slowly led through the vivid crowd, towards the throne of the King. At her side was a silent and stoic Lord Culdir. She was frost-pale and delicate as the midwinter moon, wreathed in starlit white. All eyes were turned towards her, as the Nightingales unleashed their clear, bewitching voices in a sudden sharp breeze of melody. When Culdir and Elmarië stood finally before the throne of Thingol, Lord Ellos strode forward, and placed the hand of his daughter firmly into the cold grasp of Culdir.

In the face of such unendurable beauty, and such staggering agony, Thaliondil could do nothing but turn and run. It was distinctly out of character for him to flee from either pain or misfortune, out of sheer obstinacy if nothing else; yet he could no longer physically bear to stand by and watch this nightmare scenario unfold. He was helpless, unable to prevent his only chance of happiness from slipping cruelly away from his outstretched hand. But he could run. None noticed his departure, save those whom he pushed roughly aside as he made his frantic escape. The door stood before him like a gaping portal of desperation, and he propelled himself through it as though his personal salvation lay on the other side. He stalked his way through the deserted halls of Menegroth like an enraged phantom, battling the mounting urge to weep. Suddenly, he stopped. Light footfalls echoed softly behind him. He was being followed.

'Were you truly in love with her?' The voice drifting after him was soft and lilting; bubbling with an almost childish zeal.

Thaliondil turned, and fixed his stony gaze upon Lheina. He sighed deeply and turned away, wishing he had never laid eyes upon the girl. A familiar rage unfurled itself and expanded horribly in his chest.

'I think she loves you also…such as she is able,' Lheina persisted lightly, seemingly oblivious to his discontent. 'Yet Lord Culdir would surely have you killed were he to discover it.' Thaliondil shot her a menacing glance.

'Oh! He shall not learn of it from me!' She insisted, 'Yet I would advise you to keep away from her.'

'I intend to. Not that this matter has aught to do with you.' He turned to leave, seething, but she continued to shadow his steps.

'What concerns my sister concerns me!' She wailed in a highly annoying tone, 'and I do wish you would show me more courtesy, Sir. I have no doubt incurred the wrath of my father by leaving the hall, and I came only to speak with you!'

'Why?'

'You interest me! I would learn more of you, for Elmarië would reveal nothing.'

'I would sooner be alone.' He replied bluntly.

'At least tell me your name, sir. I am curious to-'

'Leave me!' He barked suddenly, stopping short in his tracks; his virulence surprised even him. Lheina recoiled from him, a little shocked. She nodded hurriedly, turned and fled. Thaliondil felt a slight pang of remorse as he watched her disappear; he had perhaps spoken a little harshly, for she was little more than a child. He wondered for a moment whether he should go after her, then swiftly decided against it, for he was certainly glad to be rid of her. How appallingly irritating she was! Shaking his head, he strode off down the corridor.


	25. The End of a Silence

A/N – Hurrah! I'm thrilled to see my most faithful of reviewers is still on the case!

Chapter 24 – the End of a Silence

The sombre tones of winter moaned upon the swift breeze, and the heavens were stained with rippling turrets of black-bellied cloud. Elmarië shivered, and gazed out of the small window onto a frozen world. The frail dawn had done little to melt the argent snow which now thickly carpeted the forest floor; and an etching of frost adorned the stately grey shapes of trees. Birdsong rose suddenly up to her window, and gazing to the ground she noticed a robin hopping about upon the snow. She smiled faintly, wishing pointlessly that she possessed wings, even as this bird, which could bear her away. It had been one week since her marriage to Culdir, and married life was more detestable than she had ever imagined. It had become more glaringly obvious than ever before that Culdir did not love her. He wished only to possess her, to crush her will until she became no more than his humble servant. Elmarië vowed to herself that she would never submit; not entirely. Though she had little choice than to do as he bade her, in a way she still resisted him. He could never eradicate the sneer that touched the corner of her lip; the subtlest hint of mockery that settled upon her features whenever he touched her. The grim satisfaction she earned from the quiet displeasure of her husband was a slight consolation to Elmarië, cold comfort though it was. She would not cringe and cower before him as he wished. Even though she was in truth moderately afraid of him, given his foul temperament and alarming bouts of aggression, she had become rather adept at concealing her terror. An icy glare of disdain was all she would bestow upon him, and all she might receive in return. She stood up, the lacy folds of her gown rustling against the floor as she swept purposefully out of the room. Culdir was not at home, and that in itself lifted her spirits. She paced the sumptuous halls of her new abode, feeling restless and a little uneasy, though she knew not why.

'My lady!' There came a sudden squeak from behind her. Elmarië turned, and beheld a servant girl with long brown hair, and a nervous expression upon her small face.

'What _is_ it, Ermoniel?' She asked impatiently. This timid, mouse-like girl had irritated Elmarië on first sight, and further acquaintance had done little to endear her.

'There is a gentleman, My Lady, who asks to speak with you.' Ermoniel replied breathlessly, her wide eyes fixed upon her own feet.

'I am in no mood for visitors,' she answered wearily. 'Tell him to return later, and my husband shall deal with his business.'

'My lady I do beseech you to go to him! He will not tell his name, yet he is most adamant, and says he will speak with no one save you! From his manner I guess that he would inform you of some matter of great importance!' The girl was close to panic now, and Elmarië shot her a withering glare.

'Very well,' Elmarië sighed, and allowed Ermoniel to lead her hurriedly to the hall where the gentleman awaited her. For a crucial second, she paused.

'Thaliondil!' She cried, unable for a time to mask her astonishment. He stood within the hall, wrapped in a grey cloak. He gazed at her as she approached, his clear eyes wide yet expressionless. His hair was matted and windswept, hanging untidily about his pale face. Elmarië paced over to him, trying to smile. She felt suddenly and uncharacteristically self-conscious, as though her every move was awkward and ungainly.

'All is well, Ermoniel. You are dismissed,' she said quietly. The girl departed with a nod of her head, casting one short, inquisitive glance towards Thaliondil. The stillness that followed her departure was absolute, and the two gazed at each other in silence.

'I am told that you would speak with me,' Elmarië said, trying her utmost to appear dignified and disinterested, and, to her mind, failing miserably.

'I would, Lady,' he answered stiffly.

'Then let us remove to somewhere a little more comfortable,' she replied formally, and led him through to a small brightly lit chamber. She sat down, and gestured for him to do the same. He sat in silence, looking taut and uncomfortable, his hands resting upon his knees. Elmarië realised, with no small measure of panic, that she had nothing at all to say to him – nothing that wouldn't be wildly inappropriate, embarrassing or ridiculous.

'Would you care for refreshments, or…?' Elmarië began awkwardly.

'No. Thank you.' He interrupted hurriedly.

'You are well, I trust?' She asked politely.

'Yes,' he replied, in a stupidly unconvincing tone. He would not raise his eyes to meet her.

'And Tinuial and Carnil?' she persisted. If neither of them was to say anything of consequence, she would at least keep the silence at bay. Exchanging banal pleasantries was safer than sitting in that horrible, provocative silence – a silence that thrummed with the tension of potentiality.

'They…they are quite well. Thank you.' He answered awkwardly. Elmarië almost smiled. It seemed that Thaliondil was not nearly as adept at trite small-talk as she.

'I never truly thanked you, and your companions, for escorting me back to my homeland at such great risk to yourselves. I do hope you realise that my gratitude knows no bounds.' If she had paid more attention to the words slipping from her tongue, she might have cringed at their awful irony.

'It was Tinuial's doing, in truth, Lady. I had little part in it,' he answered uncompromisingly. Elmarië winced inwardly. She could not discern whether his words were intended as a rebuff, an insult, or whether they were merely his idea of conversation, socially inept as he was. In any case, he was making very little effort to communicate with her. She paused, hollow with despair, feeling the silence extend painfully between them.

'Of course,' she replied at last, her voice reduced almost to a whisper. 'And…what do you make of Doriath?'

'It is a little…ostentatious for my liking.' He answered shortly. There was a definite edge of antagonism in his voice. Elmarië's jaw set suddenly; she could bear it no longer.

'Have you come here simply to torment me?' She snapped with a virulence that clearly surprised them both. His gaze rose to greet her at last. His features were unreadable, though Elmarië could detect no malice in his red-rimmed eyes. He looked gaunt and weary, and a little lost.

'I meant no offence,' he said rigidly. 'I came simply to see that you are well.'

'You jest, surely,' she moaned bitterly. 'Fate itself jests at my expense, I think. No, Thaliondil, I am _not_ well. I am lately married – quite against my will – to a man I verily despise! My life is in tatters, with no hope of redemption.' Elmarië immediately wished she could withdraw her words – they hung heavily in the air between them, scorching her face with embarrassment. She had not intended to betray so much, to admit to the abject hopelessness of her situation. Without her pride, she was less than nothing. She closed her eyes and wished in vain that he would simply depart, before she fell to pieces in front of him.

'I love you.' Thaliondil said suddenly. Elmarie's eyes snapped open, and she gazed at him in wonder.

Thaliondil could have kicked himself. Of all the fair things he had been planning to say to her, without preamble he had blurted out the blunt, obvious truth. He drew a breath, and tried to think of something else to say, something to soften the direct severity of his previous statement. But he was unable. He could sit before her for days trying desperately to explain to her how much he desired her, but words would never equal his emotion. He had no reason to believe that she returned his love, yet he needed her to react in some way, so he sat in silence, waiting.

'I wish with all my heart that you had told me ere this day,' Elmarië replied brokenly. 'For what am I to do?'

'I know not,' he answered sullenly. 'I do indeed regret not having spoken of this sooner.'

'What do you desire of me?' She cried bitterly, 'I am a married woman - much as it grieves me! I am now expected to act out of duty, rather than choice.'

'I expect nothing of you. Yet if you were you permitted to follow your heart, whither would it lead you?' He asked quietly. Elmarië started, and was suddenly reminded of the words of Elbereth, which she had tried so hard to forget.

'My heart would lead me to you,' she whispered. At that moment, there was a sharp knock at the door. Elmarië backed away from Thaliondil with a jolt, realising only at that moment that she had been leaning towards him.

'Enter,' she commanded hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. Nurram entered the room, and bowed low before them. He glanced momentarily at Thaliondil, then turned to Elmarië, smiling weakly.

'My Lady, I am sorry to interrupt,' he said politely. 'I have received word from Lord Culdir. He may not be returning home for several days, on account of a prolonged hunting trip.'

Elmarië tried to conceal the sudden spring of delight welling up inside her chest. One advantage of her loveless marriage was the fact that Culdir hardly cherished her company, therefore she was given much time to herself. She had to admit that in some respects, her life had certainly improved. She no longer had to contend her father's palpable and near-constant wrath, or her mother's silent disappointment, for she had appeased them, and done their bidding. Elmarië had often smiled secretly, when imagining the difficulties her kin might face when attempting to find suitors for Lheina.

'Is that all you have to say, Nurram?' She demanded a little coldly.

'It is, My Lady,' he answered.

'Then you are dismissed.' Nurram bowed once again, and departed wordlessly. The door closed softly behind him.

'Nurram is under the command of Culdir?' Thaliondil asked suddenly, clearly confused.

'Oh! I shall explain it later.' Elmarië exclaimed. Her eyes shone brightly. 'Yet there are other matters of importance, I believe. My husband will be gone for several days. Would you care to abide here for a time, as my guest?' A smile crept across his face. They edged closer to one another and sat for a moment, face to face.

'I should first return to Menegroth, to inform my sister.' He said wearily, backing away abruptly. 'I left ere she woke, and already she will be concerned for me.'

'I shall see to it that messengers are sent!' Elmarië insisted, resolving to take matters once and for all into her own hands. 'Now you must do my bidding, Sir. For I am the Lady of the house.' She rose, and drew him to his feet. She grinned subtly, safe in the knowledge, as she led Thaliondil to her chamber, that she was the least dutiful wife in all of Doriath.


	26. Bloodguilt

A/N - sorry it's been such a long wait once again, Bard! Only two or three more chapters to go now, though there's a prequel in the pipeline. Someone should really stop me.

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Chapter 25 - Blood-guilt

The faint sun had risen thrice upon the realm of Doriath since Thaliondil had first visited the house of Culdir; and there he had remained for those few, sumptuous days. As morning cupped the ashen sun in its delicate clasp, he awoke beside Elmarië, still holding her close to him. She was oblivious to his movement, and lay there still and silent, her black hair enshrouding her white, delicate face like an unruly cloud. Thaliondil smiled, and wondered vaguely what Lord Culdir would do, were he to learn of this terrible betrayal. Yet surely, such ecstasy as this was worth any price. Sighing, he turned his eyes from Elmarië and surveyed the wide, white heavens beyond the breath-misted window. This soaring happiness was too acute to be maintained, and well he knew it. He had lost his heart to a dream, and spent these days wandering hazily through a calm, chimeric land where all was warm and vibrant, though the world beyond lay brooding beneath a dreary veil of winter. And yet the rain was gradually setting in, and the colours of his bright illusion were now faded and blurred by the grey tears of reality. He knew that today he must depart, and he resolved suddenly to leave there and then, as bidding her farewell would surely break his heart. He kissed her soft, red lips while she rested, and within minutes he was gone.

Elmarië drifted silently in a world of dark, misted dreams, consciousness slowly filtering through the shadows of her mind, and dragging her mercilessly into the waking world. Even before she was fully awake, she knew that Thaliondil had gone. His absence was an aching burden, an unguessable weight pressing down upon her, and she placed her hand sadly upon the spot where he should have lain. Yet she knew with the same cold, hard certainty that they would meet again. Why could they not simply be together? She breathed deeply, and sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes gently. She had slept late, for most of the morning had passed her by. Shuddering at the thought that Culdir was due to return this afternoon, she rose and dressed hurriedly. For a long time she did not leave her chamber, and sat at the window watching the determined flakes of falling snow hammer the ground and gather in mounds upon the gnarled, twisted forms of the trees until the world became endless labyrinth of untouched white.

As a child she had adored the snow, and she remembered her disappointment when her father had refused to let her go outside and dance amid the swirling, feathery snowflakes. So her mother had told her in hushed tones that each flake of snow was a falling star cast from heaven. A star could not be held in the hand, for it would fade and die at the touch, and the soft snow would melt and disappear as though it had never existed. It was desecration to tread upon, or try to grasp and possess something so hallowed and pure. Elmarië gazed thoughtfully at the mass of slumberous whiteness, wondering uselessly where all the years had gone. It was then that she beheld the return of Culdir. He came suddenly into view from beneath the trees, bearing his ornately carven bow, and clutching the horn of some mighty woodland creature in his white-knuckled fist. The snow had abated, and she could see him clearly as he approached. His wan face - with its high-ridged cheekbones, sharp nose and thin, humourless mouth - bore a rather sour expression. He brushed the snow from his fiery hair, and glanced coldly up at the window where Elmarië regarded him miserably. He had seen her, and would be vexed if she did not immediately make her way down to greet him. Cursing under her breath, Elmarië toiled reluctantly to the staircase which spiralled its delicate way down into the vast entrance hall. She thanked Eru, at least, that Thaliondil had indeed left ere her husband's return. Her light steps echoed in the cavernous space, and she glanced below her as the grand doors swung open, allowing Culdir to enter his domain. The sharp wind penetrated the hall as he strode inside, with at least a dozen servants in tow. Elmarië forced a smile, and made her way to him calmly.

'I have missed you, my love,' he said slowly, with a hint of sneering sarcasm. He brushed her face with a cold hand. He knew how she hated him to show her affection, and the slight scowl upon her face appeared to cause him both anger and quiet satisfaction. He took her in his arms and kissed her. As his frozen lips met hers, she closed her eyes without hesitation and pictured Thaliondil. Culdir was somewhat taken aback by the passion with which she returned his kiss, and the nearby servants pretended only very half-heartedly not to be watching. When he at last drew back from her, Culdir eyed his wife with surprise and slight suspicion, but in return, she gave him only a sweet smile.

Darkness seeped from the sombre sky, and the ethereal glimmer of the snow was slowly smothered in the gloom. Elmarië sat alone in the gathering evening; her chamber lit only by the diaphanous haze cast by a few scattered stars. She had not spoken to Culdir since their encounter in the entrance hall, yet he loomed ever-present in her thoughts. There was no escaping him. All she wanted was for her dreams of Thaliondil to bear her gently into the freedom of the raven sky upon a cloud of fantasy. Yet the memory of Culdir haunted her like an unwanted spectre roaming the paths of her mind, lurking always just beneath the surface of her thought. Of a sudden, there came a mighty crash from behind her, and the wooden door of the chamber burst open. Culdir entered the room, and the yellow lamp-light from the corridor beyond tore the shadows of the room asunder for a brief second. Elmarië rose as Culdir strode over to her, and gasped with shock as he shoved her aggressively against the wall.

'Unhand me!' She cried sharply. Fury kindled the depths of his chill, blue eyes, yet his voice was oddly soft as he spoke.

'If you do not mind my asking, dearest wife, how, precisely, have you been spending your time in my absence?' Elmarië gazed at him in alarm, and she tried in vain to break free from his strong grip. Culdir smote her face with his shaking hand. A yelp of pain and outrage spilled out from between her gritted teeth.

'Did you truly believe that I would not learn of it?' he demanded incredulously, his tone low and menacing.

'I have done nothing!' She insisted, without much hope of convincing him.

'Lying _whore_!' He raged with overwhelming force, pressing her against the wall. 'You are no better than the filth beneath my feet!' He threw her roughly to the bare ground of the chamber. She lay still for a moment, trembling, yet when she saw him advancing she hauled herself to her feet and made a dash for the door. He caught her by her hair and dragged her fiercely towards him. She screamed and tried frantically to pull away as he seized her arm.

'Let me go!' She pleaded. 'I beg you!' He smiled cruelly, tightening his grip upon her arm.

'Tell me his name,' he demanded, his voice low and calm.

'What?' She whispered faintly.

'Who is he?' he rasped, suddenly raising his voice. 'The man who has touched my harlot of a wife!' Elmarie shook her head. She was too afraid to weep, or cry out. But she could not tell him. Whatever Culdir might do to her, this was a secret she would carry to her grave, if necessary.

'It is none of your concern,' she cried shrilly. 'He is gone.'

'You will tell me his name!' Culdir repeated.

'I cannot,' she murmured.

'You fear for his safety?' Culdir mocked, a hideous smile upon his face. 'I do not deny that he shall endure a death so wretched I would be loath to inflict it upon a dog! Yet if you refuse to obey me in this matter, your fate shall be no better.'

Elmarië stared at him aghast. 'So be it,' she declared, hoping against hope that his threat was a hollow one.

He glared at her malevolently, his unyielding eyes filled with a bitter malice. Elmarië glanced about her desperately, and the dull glint of something golden caught her attention. With her free hand, she snatched a large, jewel-encrusted goblet from a nearby table, and raised it swiftly to Culdir's head. He caught her wrist in mid air, and met her gaze steadily. No trace of anger showed upon his face, save in the hellish depths of his pale blue eyes. She let the goblet drop. It did not shatter, but cracked a little as it smote the floor. The sound was like breaking bone. Culdir smiled, and pushed her once more against the wall, grim determination flaring horribly across his features. Elmarië stood there silently, paralysed with horror. Culdir caressed her face, softly tracing the hollow of her cheekbone with his callused thumb. She shuddered violently, feeling contaminated by his touch. Suddenly, he wound his wiry hands firmly about her neck, and began to squeeze. She let out a stifled cry, barely able to force the air through her constricted throat. The slow, dull pain increased with every manic thump of her heart. His breath scalded her face, and she wept softly, trying to scream. With her failing sight, she beheld him smile triumphantly.

'Do not waste your breath my sweet love; there are none to hear you.'

A dark, unfathomable stillness descended upon Elmarië, and she struggled no more. Her fear and fury gently dissolved into sorrowful acceptance, and the sensation immersing her heart, as her life slipped from her weakening grasp, was something nearing tranquility. She teetered upon the brink of death, and felt ready to be cast helplessly into an abyss of silent annihilation. She felt as though she were beyond pain, beyond yearning. Sweet oblivion beckoned her with its cold, alluring touch. Suddenly, a sharp cry rent through the cloud of mute senselessness about her, and a violent jolt ran through her limp body. The immovable grip upon her throat abruptly ceased, and bereft of that cold, obstinate touch, she crashed to the floor. Distant voices reached her through a haze of distortion, and the stabbing pain in her throat dragged her into a confused, agonised consciousness. She gasped helplessly, yet only a mere trickle of air seemed to be drawn into her lungs. There was a heavy thud nearby. As the darkness before her eyes began to clear a little, Elmarië beheld the shadowy form of her husband lying face down upon the floor, a knife embedded in his shoulder. His body shook with agony, and his fists were tightly clenched, yet he seemed to be slowly losing consciousness. He was then still, save for the rattle of his desolate, shallow breathing. Elmarië struggled to regain awareness of her situation, laboured breaths ripping through her raw throat. A shrouded figure knelt beside her, and touched her face with a trembling hand. The voice of Nurram echoed about the room, and he sobbed between his words.

'My love, forgive me! I beg you to forgive me!' He covered his face with his hands, and wept for a moment. Elmarië could not answer. It pained her immensely even to draw breath.

'Can you not speak?' his hands dropped to the cold floor, and he gazed at her silently. His lip was bleeding, and his eyes were wild. 'If you are lost, Lady, then I shall never be free of the grief! This is my doing! I...I know not why I have been such an atrocious fool. I can explain only by saying that love and hatred are entwined within my heart, and adoration is ever tainted and embittered by fury, and jealousy. A curse is upon me, I think; like cold chains upon my very soul! I love you so! And yet I have hated you, and cursed your cruel beauty which has so torn my life to shreds, upset the very earth beneath me, and lain waste to all my former loyalties. And all in vain. You could never have loved me, and I was a fool to hope for it. At times I longed only to be free of this terrible, useless love, which so tortured me, or to be rid of you entirely! And yet you lie here before me, so exquisite, so still, like a broken doll. Your sorrow has become my own. And still you loathe me, as well you should! I have brought this fate upon you. Yet I love you, never forget it, Lady. I love you as once I loved my master. Yet such harm he has inflicted upon you...' Elmarië coughed painfully, clasping her throat in agony. Why did he not help her, or call for aid? It seemed that he barely saw her through the tears standing cold and bright in his clear blue eyes.

'It was not I who told him of Thaliondil!' He insisted, his voice hushed and feverish. 'I admit, I confirmed his suspicions that your heart belonged to another. I can tell him no falsehood...and yet I swear, I told him nothing more! I can betray you no further!' With a flash of his eyes, Nurram turned from her, and he no longer seemed aware of her existence. He stood above Culdir, looking down upon his master with a cold, merciless glare. 'I shall serve you no longer!' He spat furiously.

At the sound of Nurram's raised voice, Culdir stirred. With an excruciating effort, he heaved himself from the ground and rose shakily to his feet, swaying and seething with a harrowing fury. The knife remained embedded within his shoulder, and with a fierce motion that made him almost weep with pain, he pulled the blade from his blood-drenched flesh. His left arm hung lifeless and inert by his side. 'You shall not live to behold the dawn, I promise you this,' Culdir rasped, the full menace of his gaze unleashed upon Nurram. The knife glimmered in his shaking hand, drenched to the hilt in dark, ink-like blood. Elmarië once more felt her consciousness dwindling. Her sight seemed to fail, though her eyes remained wide open. It seemed almost as though a mist of blood seethed and flourished upon the air, enveloping them all in its macabre tide. They had committed such crimes, each of them alike. Perhaps they would never evade the strange, sanguine shadows which now wreathed them. Perhaps they deserved whatever ruinous end awaited them.

Nurram stood motionless and silent. He appeared undaunted, and somehow fey; entirely oblivious to his danger. With feigned invincibility, he stood there proud and steadfast, looking his former master steadily in the eye. Yet it was Culdir who clasped the knife. Nurram was unarmed, and made no effort to flee or protect himself. There was a moment of excruciating silence, then suddenly, Culdir sprang like a serpent, and drove the glittering blade deep into Nurram's chest in one sharp movement. He then stood back, reeling, catching himself upon the stone wall. Nurram made no reaction; he neither retaliated nor balked beneath the strain of what must have been a tremendous agony. He either did not see, or chose to ignore, the torrent of bright blood spilling forth from the wound, covering him like the stain of accusation. He turned slowly from Culdir, and fixed his gaze upon Elmarië. His face was taut and colourless, and yet a small smile touched his white lips as he regarded her. 'If with my final breath I were to say only that I love you, I would not count it wasted,' he murmured gently.

Nurram's words rang horribly through her mind, like the toll of a ghastly bell, and she whimpered softly as she regarded him. He was fading by the second. It was as though a vast shadow had shifted its weight onto his shoulders, bearing him down, and leeching the clear light from his eyes. Was life worth nothing more than this? Could it truly be extinguished by something so small and soulless as a cold steel blade? Elmarië felt her own light failing. Perhaps death shadowed her in the same way; she could not tell. She simply felt weary, so very weary. She longed to escape, to find a place where this burning pain would trouble her no more. With her final glimmer of sight, she watched helplessly as Nurram stumbled, and fell to the unyielding ground like an old, crumbling statue.


End file.
